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POETRY | AUTUMN LANDSCAPES
Leaf Squirrel
Atop a bare maple tree in autumn
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High, high up in the maple tree
towering over my head, a clump of
burnt orange leaves looks weirdly
like a fat, feathered squirrel
surveying the wide world below,
lazily flicking his tail as the breeze
steals through the almost naked branches,
reaching for the clouds above.
Not that any self-respecting squirrel
would be wasting time up there
when there is a feast of fresh fallen
walnuts around the front of the house,
some still juicily clad in their green coats,
huddled down in the uncut grass,
waiting to be discovered, chewed open,
gnawed, buried somewhere for winter,
many already crushed open by neighbors
driving by on the lane past our place,
all more interesting than the view
from atop a dozing maple tree.
