A Squirrel-ly Poem

My patio garden - July, 2016

My fingers tap 

on the keys of my laptop

like the squirrel 

digging in my garden

wondering, perhaps, if anything worth eating

had been hidden beneath the damp soil waiting 

to be discovered and eaten.

But no, all had been harvested but each day the squirrel returns, curious 

about the soils potential

if squirrels know such big words.

When I dig in my garden I only find peanuts 

magically transported into the soil,

fine hairy roots beginning to sprout, but

I toss them out for the squirrel to pick up

and possibly cache in my little garden. 

“Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.”

~ Carl Sandburg