October’s Lonely Squirrel

OCTOBER’S LONELY SQUIRREL

As I stroll this winding trail, inhaling the crisp mid-fall air
Out of the brush burst a covey of quail, at first I thought it a bear
The wind biting my skin, whirling around as I descend
Continuing a path where I’ve never been, approaching the river’s bend

Loose stones provide unstable ground
The roaring water engulfing all sound

The rattling of branches shedding their leaves
The chirping of birds fluttering in trees
That strange sound resembling raspy heaves
Even the sound of my own sneeze

Are all distorted by this rough moving water - Unfit for even an otter

Slowly I cross atop slippery rocks
Stumbling onto the other side
Startling a sleeping grey fox
Away from this water I quicken my stride

Soothing sounds more pronounce
The farther ahead I travel
The river’s sound can no longer trounce
Not even as loud as my feet on this gravel

Again that sound, raspy coughing or a crow choking
Could be some critter scoffing or in some way provoking

What could it be? Now I must see
Curiosity has gotten the better of me
Following the sound is key
Off of the path I now flee

As I get closer to the sound
A thick layer of leaves, litter the ground
Trees, bushes, and vines impede my progress
Stumbling ahead, onward I press

Soon the sound cannot be heard
Only the crushing of leafs as I struggle along
All else is silent not even a bird
In despair I sit down, what went wrong

After some time the silence is broken
The tweeting of birds again fills my ears
Suddenly on a branch something awoken
Scurrying about a lone squirrel appears

The furry critter runs back and forth, on a tree so tall
Stopping here and there, to make that strange call
Loneliness has caused this poor thing to bawl