Notes About The Poem
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SONNET FOR THE TULIP-TOTING SQUIRREL
A squirrel did scamper down the garden path,
his tiny paws clasped tight around a bouquet.
He dodged a rake, a hose, and a birdbath~
determined not to drop a single spray.
The tulips bobbed like dancers in a breeze,
their colors shouting louder than his size.
He paused to sneeze (for pollen makes him wheeze),
then struck a pose as if to win a prize.
Neighbors peered out, unsure of what they saw~
a florist? a thief? a furry little knight?
But he just chattered, clutching stems in awe,
intent on keeping every bloom upright.
And when he reached his nest—oh, what a sight:
a tulip throne for one small lord of light.
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