Black Squirrel By The Roadside
©December 31st, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
Black Squirrel by the roadside
Fallen, perhaps, in the middle of the night,
Asleep in your nest, dreaming of flying,
Were airborne for a brief moment,
And ended there, in the deep cold.
I grieve for you, Black Squirrel.
I grieve for your brief life
With its fidgety runs up and down branches,
And your ceaseless tail-semaphoring,
And your impudent teasing of my dog.
I grieve that your life flashed by,
And none of us paid it heed,
Busy with our own, and
Dismissing Black Squirrel Destiny.
You might have a family somewhere,
And little ones, too.
And they might wonder in lightning-quick time,
“Where’s Mama? Or Papa?”
(Whichever you might have been.)
You might have had dreams of crossing the roadside
Hands in pockets, whistling a tune,
(So to speak), daring cars to mow you down.
You might have raided other nests
And stored up nuts and acorns,
Fearing Climate Change, and knowing
That when the End arrived, you’d be flush.
And yet, not knowing that in sleep,
The cold betrayed you,
Or perhaps it was your heart,
Or maybe your dreams of flight,
You now lie there, disregarded.
I regard you, though.
And I grieve,
As I grieve for everything that passes,
Through this invisible Web.
You did your part.
I shall do mine.
So, goodnight, little Black Squirrel,
I’ll see you in the Dream.
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