They’re at it again,
the backyard squirrels
scrambling back and forth
along the fence line,
maddening the dogs
whose faith in possibility
brings them yapping to
the scene where the squirrels’
chittering grows ecstatic.
Soon, the lead squirrel leaps
from the fence crosspiece
straight onto the trunk
of our massive pine,
then rushes skyward,
leaving the dogs more
jacked than before, their
throats open full throttle,
passionate in the way
dogs are passionate,
so fixed on their objects.
Far smarter than most
rodents, squirrels have
a flair for comedy—
Their loony antics
hold the dogs captive
while I keep a watch
on things. I recall one
summer dusk when our
hound showed up, trailing
a snake from his jaws,
not a rattler, but its
markings were similar.
Even chucking stones
plucked from the garden wall,
these squirrels spark less
alarm than that low
silent critter who, after
slipping from the dog’s jaws,
discreetly skimmed off,
vanishing in the peonies.
