Who's In The Attic? Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

Late at night when everyone was sleeping or
supposedly so…there was a sound of creeping
Moving to and fro causing timid thoughts to conjure
Who or what…is keeping me from peacefully sleeping

Warily, slipper clad feet climb the squeaky stairway
My numb chilled hand reaches for the door handle
With hesitation and a breath of slowly seeping of air
I peer into chloroformed darkness…lit by a quivering candle

An eerie feeling surrounds my curiosity with cowardly fear
With the sudden brisk movement of tiny scampering feet
Illumination suffocates as senses follow a running sound
Straight to ventilation slats…a hasty escape is complete

The next morning I gaze to the roof line of the house
The sun ascends revealing adjacent activity in an oak tree
I see a little tanned squirrel gliding from an extending branch
The fastidious fury fellow has a secret he is keeping from me

Thinking there could be a connection to the attic mystery
I retrace the frightful steps I had taken the previous s night
Searching for a logical answer to the question; whodunit?
Equipped with a battery operated lantern to shed some light

Hunched, then crawling to a corner…something is out of place
Piled tactfully is a stack of acorn nuts…undoubtedly stored
for winter months that are ahead…no longer fainthearted
I am relieved… the noise source is a tiny friend who hoards

9/25/09