Notes About The Poem
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THE VISIONARY
He wasn’t like the others~
no simple nut-hoarder,
no frantic branch-to-branch commuter
with winter on his mind.
No, this squirrel had visions,
Grand ones.
He’d perch on the fence post
like a tiny prophet
and announce his plans
to anyone patient enough
to listen.
He spoke of a future where squirrels
would no longer dart in panic
across suburban roads
but stride confidently
on tiny pedestrian bridges
he designed.
He drafted blueprints
in the dirt with his tail,
lectured sparrows
on sustainable nest design,
and once attempted
to teach a bewildered raccoon
the fundamentals
of acorn-based economics.
The other squirrels
rolled their eyes,
called him “nutty,”
and went back to their
perfectly ordinary lives.
But every so often,
when the wind shifted
and the leaves rustled
with a strange kind of promise,
they’d glance his way~
if maybe,
just maybe,
he saw something
they didn’t.
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