Squirrel Dance

Jumping about the trees

Swinging from branch to branch

A daredevil on the elm and maple.

Taunting gravity, death;

And the dogs on the ground,

Look upon him, track him,


A young one, not as adept at the game–

The domesticated predator watches.

He jumps from the trunk, runs madly for the next one.

Jaws of death surround him.

He breathes his last.

I take him to the forest,

Lay him down for his long rest,

Returned to his Maker.

About theamericanplutarch

Writer, thinker, historian.
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