So I Defer to the Squirrels - Aug 9 2021

 

So I Defer to the Squirrels

Aug 9 2021

Dismembered pine cones litter the deck.

Random piles

of sticky little discs;

like cold cereal, served milkless

spilled on the counter-top.

The squirrels have been busy

while the dogs were asleep,

growing fat

on the plenty of summer

the benevolence of trees.

They make themselves at home here,

almost arrogant

on short speedy legs,

furiously chattering

on sturdy branches

as if taunting my two girls.

Who are sniffing eagerly, noses to the ground,

bewildered

by the the interrupted scent.

And the squirrels looking down

at us earthbound creatures

as if we were intruders

on their closely guarded turf.

Which perhaps we are.

Because they were here first.

Because they belong

and learned to thrive,

while we make a living somewhere else

retreat behind our walls

burn the winter oil.

Squatters, at least for now,

bringing what we need from the city

instead of depending on the land.

So I defer to the squirrels

sweep up after them.

The majestic white pine,

which to me

are simply things of beauty

I claim as my own;

but which, like the squirrels

have no time for my conceit

of legal entitlement.

Native trees,

not only taking root in this soil

where they will grow old,

but providing for these bright busy creatures

both food and home.

I don't know how many variations on this theme I've already written. It seems an inexhaustible well for me! So I feel it might strike the reader as not only lazy to write another, but perhaps also a little preachy and sanctimonious.

But I live close to nature – or like to think I do – and it's hard for not to see things that trigger these associations. And especially in this time of climate emergency and a zoonotic pandemic, can one really say enough about our specie's failed relationship with the earth?