April 12, 2008

A squirrel lies on its side

while the sun lays gentle fingers,

hoping to warm him in his hour of need.

But nothing can heat up preternatural cold.

 

I fend off Mother Nature’s cleanup crew,

remove the maggots,

and tenderly lift him and place him

in the soft fissure I have hollowed

out of the earth beneath an oak tree.

 

With him I place a few nuts and acorns,

for the journey to his afterlife.

The red jays and chickadees have come out

to offer an eulogy and I

say a silent prayer of safe passage.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: