Buccaneer of Branches
by Annie Jenkin

Under heavy hanging clouds
a squirrel leaves his drey,
defying gravity, lively and leaping,
somersaults obstacles.

Hunting autumn woodlands
fluffs out his tail
there's a scuffle and scurry
as another scuttles up a tree.

Burying his cache of acorns,
to search for wild mushrooms
held like a ship's wheel
he nibbles around its edges.

In a second, he's statue still
unfurls his curled quill
swishes it from side to side
before dashing away.



 

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