Squirrels have Personalities
I’ve got no beef with the quiet ones
who go about their squirrely business,
turning over brittle brown leaves
in search of fatty seeds and nuts.
It’s the ruffians and scapegraces
in the yard, taunting my cat, Moriarty,
with their harsh chitters and chuffs,
flicking their bushy autumn tails.
“Winter is coming,” I comfort,
“You’ll be warm inside, feasting
on canned meat, watching snowflakes
cover their frozen nests.”
But Moriarty lives in the moment.
So I let him out to have his fun.