poems and squirrels
I’d rather be mapping the behavior of squirrels
than write a poem.
I’d rather eat breakfast out than write a poem.
ok, some oatmeal at home is about the same,
a poem equality.
I’d rather watch the waves, counting sevens,
than write a poem. easy choice.
I’d rather ride the ferry boat wherever it wants
to go than write a poem.
I’d rather go out for dawn coffee, although yea,
writing makes something to do with my hands.
I’d rather have a bushy tail than write a poem.
I’d rather hide my shadow in the rocks, only
be brave if I see something in a hand to eat.
squirrels see poems between your fingertips,
but I think we call that a noon sandwich.
watching squirrels clamber in shoreline rocks
is far more amusing than watching a poem.
try it. you’ll see. so then what’s my excuse,
making this pen run dry? none to confess.
maybe this is all pouring soup into a poem
bowl. maybe, maybe not. hungry yet?
nothing more to confess that idyl fingers
won’t betray. just another poem bum.
a squirrel told me so!
neil reid © april 2012
