Chipmunks

Back and forth, to and fro Hither and yon then off they go Up the tree then under the bush Off scurrying through leaves in a big whoosh Grabbing a nut picking at sticks In a game of tag they’d be the first picks Hurrying all day whether to work or eat There is seldom a pause they have energy replete Either tasks or play until the sun has sunk The forests’ funniest of creatures, the little chipmunk