Notes About The Poem
image from pinterest,com
Authentication
On a high branch,
a squirrel in a green felt fedora
lifts a pair of binoculars,
surveying the yard
with the solemn focus
of someone guarding
a very small kingdom.
He is today’s sentry~
the latest in a long line
of creatures appointed
to verify what passes
beneath his tree.
He watches the mail carrier,
the jogger,
the neighbor’s dog,
each subjected
to his silent scrutiny.
No one escapes
the authentication ritual.
He tightens his grip
on the binoculars,
as though the world
has become a place
where trust requires
magnification.
Even the wind
must prove itself,
rustling the leaves
in a pattern he recognizes
before he allows it
to pass.
And I stand below,
waiting for permission
to enter my own yard~
passwords memorized,
codes confirmed,
identity authenticated
in triplicate.
The squirrel nods once,
a gesture of clearance
or perhaps indifference.
It’s hard to tell
with squirrels.
The squirrel resumes his watch,
fedora tipped,
binoculars raised.
And in the small precision
of his woodland audit,
I see a reflection of myself~
another creature
trying to navigate a world
where every door
asks for proof,
every gesture
requires verification,
and even the simplest trust
must pass inspection
He scans the yard again,
not for danger,
but for certainty~
a thing neither of us
has managed to keep.
And in his quiet vigilance,
I recognize the strange truth
of our age:
that we have become
guardians of our own fear,
checking the locks
not because they are broken,
but because we are.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
