49. ALERT

To the tree went squirrel and nut,
In the thick foliage swings a head right.
Eyes gazing at sudden movement
With a head bobbing constant.

A tail flirts, branch to branch,
Inspecting the oak ranch,
While collecting the winter’s batch
And then sit on a branch to watch.

In winter they lay in a hole,
Walled with a walnut hall,
Slowly eating from the golden brown,
All under the snowy crown.

We sometimes want to be someone else
Yet in all the difference;
We are all we have got.