Poor Poor Wee Little Squirrel

Poor poor wee little squirrel he came into our yard today looking here and looking there for the tree next door he likes to climb. He did not seem to believe his eyes. Where oh where is my tree? he chittered What did you do with it? he chattered. He ran to the right, flipping his tail in a massive state of irritation then sat down on his haunches and stared at what was left of the tree. What has happened to my tree? he fussed, You did this, didn't you? he fumed looking straight at me most belligerently. It wasn't me I said and in reply he threw a nut at me. He ran to the left side of the 9 foot tree stump sat on his haunches and chittered and chattered and scolded like an aggravated Oklahoma housewife. What have you done with my tree? he demanded. He glared about and muttered and spluttered Dad burn people and their strange ways can't leave nothing alone.. He finally gave it up in utter disgust. Did his hopalong gait across the yard, across the street, and zipped up the tree and from there he hopped the telephone wire express. I thought he was gone for good as huffy as he was but two hours later he was back again with a nut in his mouth which quieted him some. He diddy-bopped his way across the street right up to the remnant of his old tree and dug a hole at the base of it and plopped that nut right in and buried it tight. Perhaps next year I shall be writing a poem about the tree that wouldn't die... and dedicate it to Monsieur the Nutty Scolding Squirrel. . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~©Susan Williams