Tuesday, March 10, 2015

The Squirrel

I saw a squirrel this morning
under shopping carts, at the A& P,
without  any warning
scurrying everywhere, seemingly carefree,

for the stray nut
or morsel of food
they do nothing but
they brighten one’s mood

with their speed so jerky
impossible to caress
their movements so quirky
telephone wire homes’ address

not long before,
with a friend at prayer,
not God to implore
but together to share

doubts and dismay
about life and its use
early feelings falling prey
to our minds on the loose

Left with a sigh
surrender to living
so frightened to die
we fall back to giggling

like kids in a classroom
carefree, immortal
a respite from doom
from life's final portal.

I wonder today,
so soon to Yom Kippur
is there something to say
that can rid me of the bitter

truth, clutching and rolling,
like the darting squirrel
we whirl and twirl
death's ringing bell tolling,

another year of closer to 
who shall live? who shall die?
where to find the clue
whether low or high?

in a parking lot
or up a tree
like a squirrel not yet caught

skittish  and free.

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