REQUIEM FOR A YOUNG SQUIRREL

Venturing forth from his nest on high
in our tall oak tree, comes a brand new squirrel: gingerly.

Hump and stretch, bark on his claw,
down he comes, never down before.

Stop and look, wait a while;
drink-in sight, without guile.

Gaining ground, he explores leaves of green.
Then poking out his head, he’s willing to be seen:

Here come grass, twigs and moss;
up goes his tail, curl and toss.

On he goes, in curve-like motion;
freer now, with tentative caution.

Later in the day, down by the street
I’m shocked to find his furry little feet:

feet on the black top, severed from his head
which crushed by a tire had flattened and bled.

O fresh new life, enticed by Spring,
why should you discover such a dreadful thing!

Coming so new, fresh from the nest
ready for adventure, forced to rest.

All the wide-world, now before him
who could guess: tragedy, in store for him.

Soon the rain began to pour.
Then sunshine erased all drama before.

O Adam! Why did you stumble on Death:
causing curse to God’s Creation; stealing our breath.

And there shall be no more curse
(Revelation 22:3)