Squirrel In The Rain

          Squirrel In The Rain

He perches, in sparkling eyed contemplation

of the goal. Like some celebrated stylite,

he squats on his post, oblivious

to the hostile elements. My stare

intrudes upon his gaze; defiance

resonates across the intervening space. And then

the sudden leap,

a precarious landing on the ridge; teeth bared

he nuzzles the meshwork tower,

seeking nutrition.

Losing his grip,

he hastily takes flight, back

to the stepping stone beam -

the garden fence’s parapet.

A sudden sure footed spring onto the post;

I stare at him, he glowers back at me,

brush-tail twitching. I sense

a mood of defiance; he leaps once more

to the bird tables roof.

A turbulent manoeuvre finds

a covered plateau. A sense

of instability

takes charge. He beats

a hasty retreat.

Post squatted,

he focusses once more.

He steels himself,

then springs.

The glistening plastic proves

more than a match; he takes

a floundering fall

into the sodden undergrowth.

Bedraggled, he climbs the austere fence,

tail discomfortedly curled,

shakes vigorously. The watery beads

propel themselves from body into air.

Straight tailed, disconsolate,

he beats retreat

along the wooden parapet.                   

                                      

                                      Malcolm Evison 

                                      22 May 2006