The Squirrel Poem by Dr John Celes

The Squirrel



The summer's gone and autumn's due;
I hear the squirrel squeak this morn;
Its noisiness is heard again,
Disturbing neighbor-hood each dawn.

The fruits on trees are small, unripe;
The squirrel's hunger pangs are high;
It does not find fruits to nibble,
As subdued taste-buds, almost cry.

But soon, the rodent's life will change,
As ripened fruits and nuts emerge;
Its wait for months is on the wane;
Its gala time is on the verge.

Monday, June 23, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Colleen Courtney 23 June 2014

Can't help but love this adorable and heartwarming poem as I am a HUGE lover of these fuzzy little critters! I despise those people call them rats with bushy tails! ! ! !

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* Sunprincess * 23 June 2014

.........oh I am sure the squirrel will be pleased to have a buffet of nuts and fruits....enjoyed this wonderful poem...

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Dr John Celes

Dr John Celes

Tamilnadu, India
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