The Squirrel

Twitch. Twitch.
Still as a statue I watch you stare.
Should I stay or run?
Maybe if I stay real still
you’ll mistake me for one of those
ridiculous lawn ornaments.
Normally you smile at me but
today you glare.
You caught me digging
in your perfect prize-winning lawn.
I’m not sorry. I had to.
You see, this tree has the best nuts
with winter slowly sneaking up,
I want to save the best.
In a few weeks,
I’ll be safe in my tree.
No, not this tree,
that big one, down the street,
with the fire leaves.
In a few weeks,
when the leaves have fallen
you’ll forget all about this encounter.
This is the unspoken agreement
you consent to as you walk into the house
and I am free to dig again.

Lauren Pankey