The Squirrel
The squirrel watched me
from the fence.
I had offended
the whole species.
His tiny hands
clutched a nut.
It held secrets
of the universe.
I froze.
I whispered apologies
to the wind.
Maybe the council
heard me.
The chipmunk rolled
its tiny eyes.
Humans are
always ridiculous.
Should I bow?
Should I run?
Should I apologize
in all mammal tongues?
The squirrel leapt
to the tree.
It disappeared,
then returned,
planning a coup.
The pigeons watched,
spectators
at a tragic comedy.
I realized
I was living
in a sitcom
written by animals.
My coffee trembled.
Bread crumbs scattered,
currency in their world.
Maybe this is power,
reminding humans
of their place,
ridiculous
and essential.
I left slowly,
bowing slightly,
avoiding wrath,
honored
to be part
of their invisible world.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
Really loved and lived this one. I for one have had a 'pet' squirrel we named Chester a very long time ago. He would even come up to the back door and knock for his corn. We fed all the birds, rabbits, chipmunks and squirrels for we even had a few deer in our backyard. Thanks for the memories Miss Marie this poem brought back.