Amazingly nimble in trees
and on telephone lines.
Dangerously awkward on streets
and at dodging cars.
Squirrel, aerial acrobat,
what’s wrong with you?
In the trees and on telephone lines
none are your equal.
Yet in the streets and in front of cars
you fall apart.
Given you dodge predators in
the air and on the ground.
One would think streets and cars
would be cakewalks by comparison.
Yet thousands of your species
end as roadkill every day.
Maybe the panic I’d feel
seeing a 72 foot brontosaurus
Is the same panic you feel
when you see a giant car.
And you freak out and die
under those killer tires.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride my exercise bike 2 hours daily. Began writing poetry October 2023, living in Greensboro, North Carolina, originally from just outside of Boston, MA.
Retired and enjoying a solo, reclusive life always researching and gaining knowledge. Most of my poems are fictional.
I write about many things: Spirituality, Mysticism, the Paranormal, Cryptids, Werewolves, Ghosts, 411s, Nature, Birds, Animals, Romantic Love, Death, NDEs, Women Persecuted as Witches, Fictional Characters I Create, News Stories, AI, Robots, Insects, like the poem entitled, Hail Caesar Bob, (about when bees were swarming me outside the door to my apartment), and many other topics. I write a minimum of 3 poems daily, sometimes more. I like and abide by the saying life's too short to be taken too seriously.
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