A Squirrel's Dream Poem by Mark Heathcote

Do squirrel's dream, it-isn't-observed
but I bet all those nerves & sinews twitch
as it leaps & bounds to its stash—reserved
with its red tail like some broom of a witch.

Airborne through the forest, unmatched
a squirrel's dream, what might it be, let's guess
I guesstimate it won't be anything abstract
it's feasible to assume and acquiesce.

That in all likelihood, it'll be food orientated
a hoard of chestnuts, a cache of gold acorns
a stockpile of hazelnuts newly expiated.
Larders restocked stolen from its neighbours.

In all likelihood, it'll have nightmares also
just as we do, only they'll be about the red fox
chewing down on its ribs, eating its torso
in all likelihood, it's just a normal paradox.