Pity the squirrel whose fate it is
to spend his days foraging for food.
His day starts at the break of dawn from high in the woodland.
By mid-morning, he has scaled a few dozen trees.
So he stops for breakfast although he is an uninvited guest.
So many fail to appreciate his reckless charm,
afraid he may move in to their attics without first being asked.
Or, as once happened in my case, to come down the chimney
and leave sooty footprints across the floor.
Squirrels are industrious yet playful.
And they know to take a few minutes each day
to rest in the sunshine.
I have seen squirrels lying flat on their tummies
with back legs kicked out,
languid expressions on their faces.
But do pity the squirrel,
who must climb all the way back into the trees every night.
If for no other reason than that his character is so easily misunderstood.