Poem: Red Squirrel

 

Red Squirrel

 

sputter and chip,

rebuke me with variants

of raucous croon,

 

you perky piccolo of fuss,

high on a spruce,

helming azure.

 

if i could shimmy, bristle,

and cackle like you,

besotted by the spirit of

 

Puck,

 

would i, too, dash

from my own moods,

a child lost to daredevilry,

 

and forget the madness

of the mean world

through the quicksilver roan

 

of my flips?

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This poem was originally published in Bolts of Silk in 2012.  I have started re-publishing poems on this blog.  A big part of it is the end of the USA as I knew it, and my concern that I will be incarcerated.  I am, too, in my 60s, and could die of natural causes, exacerbated by grief and anxiety at the loss of the democracy and freedom I knew all my life.