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SCURRY OF SQUIRRELS
SCURRY OF SQUIRRELS
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whiskered forest kings with furry, fluffy crown
their tiny paws, a blur racing up the ancient oak
ears perk as they gather nuts, sun warming their backs
a scurry of squirrels forms within the ancient oak
their tails a-twitch, their paws a-tap upon the bark so old
they chatter of buried treasures hidden ‘til days turn cold
the oak, a sentinel, stands strong and tall,
a witness to their chattering all day long
it knows of their hoarding, keeping safe their winter’s secret store
moonrise nears, and darkness falls
the squirrels disperse with whispered calls,
their meeting ended for another day
Copyright ©
Sara Etgen-Baker
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