Squirrels dance with abandon
to circadian rhythm
leaving behind all restraint,
and stashes of seeds and nuts
in unlikely places which
I shall discover in Spring.
Like gypsy fortune tellers
they scamper from one customer
to another predicting what is to come.
The plants seem to listen
afraid not to learn their fate.
They wilt a bit and lose color
as their fortune unfolds.
Their worst fears make them bold.
They bloom twice as many flowers.
They turn every flower head to seed.
They will not be caught unaware
of warnings gypsy squirrels have brought.
Perhaps, their glory will fade.
But, all will not be lost.
The squirrels promise new life will appear
in old and new plots.
annarino writes 