My Rhetoric Muse

Standing in my home’s backyard, I gazed at the skies Nothing comes to my muse’s sight but two staring eyes It swapped the branches of a tree by a daredevil jump Whirling, twirling, passing in the air getting the hump. Through the summer on the tall tree bare and brown See how brown leaves are flickering, 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 in a hole where day by day Nut by nut for her winter stock explores stores away So that when winter sets in with its cold and storm She would sleep all curled up, all snug and all warm. She looks again and to make sure after storing there So she could remember, she hid the treasure where. =================================== Dr. Ram Mehta Contest: make me feel you