Notes About The Poem
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MOUNTAIN ROAD TRIP
He packed his snacks with reckless cheer,
three pine-cones gone before first gear;
he zoomed uphill without a care~
this squirrel’s bound for mountain air.
He stopped to pose by every pine,
claimed each tall peak as “truly mine,”
took selfies with his windswept hair~
this squirrel’s bound for mountain air.
He chased a goat up rocky ground,
then waved at hikers all around;
the switchbacks spun him everywhere~
this squirrel’s bound for mountain air.
And when he reached the summit’s crest,
he puffed his chest and squeaked, “I’m blessed!”
then glided down with style to spare~
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