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