The Squirrel-My Poetic Prose

Standing in my home’s backyard, gazed at the skies No poetic prose jumped out, but two staring eyes It swapped the branches of a tree by a daredevil jump Whirling, twirling, passing in mid air getting the hump. All the summer on the tall tree bare and brown See how the brown leaves are fluttering down This squirrel, my poetry, bobbing from eyes so bright Busy now hunting for nuts to hoard with all her might In an old nest of crow or pie in a hole where day by day Nut by nut for her winter store explores stores away So that when winter comes with its cold and storm She will sleep all curled up, all snug and all warm. She looks and again and again after storing there So she could remember, she hid the treasure where. +++++++ July 20, 2014 Form : Rhyme Dr. Ram Mehta Third Place win Contest: Animals Alive by Carol Eastman