The squirrel in my neighborhood
is quick and wise.
He knows who is a threat and
who is not.
He sees the cats eyeing him.
He knows they wonder
what he’d taste like
and believe he’d be a gourmet meal
compared to the
uninspiring, dry cat food they are fed,
the occasional dead bird they consume.
But he’s too smart and too quick for them
to ever catch him and find out.
He knows they dream of him
being on their menus al la carte,
and he knows he’ll never be
their full course meal or
even their tasty snack.
He sees them as nuts for
even considering such a foolish dream
as he races up trees with astonishing rapidity
and speeds away on telephone wires with an ease
and a grace they can never emulate.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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