The Squirrel


She may appear to be all fluff,
But truly she's an acrobat
Who turns and darts this way and that.

She's born with stamina enough
To spend each day in search of food
To feed herself and her young brood.

The squirrel knows whom she can trust;
She will not hesitate to flee
Up to the shelter of a tree.

A squirrel's coat is reddish rust,
Or creamy white and charcoal grey,
Or even brown like shades of clay.

Her tail presents a question mark
That greets you when you're in the park.
Her eyes are bright, her nose can tell
If you have peanuts in the shell.


©2017 Michael Fraley




Back to Poem-O-Rama