Squirrel

Squirrel

& I

In the fall and early winter months
A squirrel wonders near our back steps
To retrieve the peanuts we leave,
  So routine for him he thinks they grow there.

They are in the shell still,
  So he works very diligently
  To get to the goodies of that single peanut.
Simple movements efficient at the ancient task.

On hind end turning it about
  It is precious gift of a ball given to a rugby player.
The only thing to concentrate on
Except for a head turning so rapidly
To see if a robber is approaching
For other peanuts untouched on the ground.
  He claims them as his own
  During that quick interlude with his fuel.

I spy from the nearby window.
  He does not see me with darting eyes,
  My eyes obscured by concentration
  And outside glare.

He doesn’t even notice the birds nearby
Trying to figure out what benefit they can get.

I am on one side of the glass, he is on the other.
  These worlds are different.
In a brief lonely space of glass
I glimpse my own ghostly reflection.

I thrive on the single brief moments
Of interaction with my children.
  This makes me somebody on one side of the glare.

The squirrel looks up.
  I and the squirrel are somebody.

Mark David Jordan, 2010