Squirrel

What’s that I hear
Loudly scolding “intruder intruder”
Leaping now up grand oak tree
Peering out from high above

An interruption of day’s work
Those wily robbers of bird feeders
And gatherers of nature’s bounty
Ready against winter’s chill

With flip of bushy tail
Now return to busy preparation
Planting storing, hop and poke
Now where did I leave that

Home sweet home in arching bowers
A comfy den or nest just right
To snugly curl within
Awaiting spring’s first touch

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