A Squirrel Sextet Poem by Richard George

1 Opportunists

What we throw away
is their feast: a slice of bread,
a packet of stale

cream pastries, and crisps
they twitch-finger around, dab
as a cross-stitcher.

Will one day they twig:
dropped money, and bound into
the chip shop, quids in?

2 Foreboding

It has been winter
for years; no, it has happened
before, and it will

happen again when
I'm not. Consciousness and
colour are draining


from what I see: black
from a branch an eye states 'You
have been here too long'.

3 First Day At School

The mother leads her
kit onto dry land - their last
day together. It

sees me and scurries
behind the tree-trunk of my
tan corduroy leg.

I spot it next week
foraging confidently.
Mum is forgotten.

4 Attitudes Of Death

The blood from its snout
is yet to jell. Stiff-stump-armed
it looks scandalized

by some calumny -
'Me? Tree-rat? ' A car swishes
past, leaps it una-

ware: a second pan-
cakes it. Abject, it lies on
its front: 'I give up'.

5 Landlord

Tortie's about. Birds
alarm-hack: adenoids 'Kh-
kh-kh' from on high

and head first, down it
lopes, and circumnavigates
me on the wet grass.

I infer from this
'If you want to picnic here,
you owe me pretzels'.

6 Squirrel's Eye View

You're bizarre squirrels:
you walk on your hinds, and your
front legs catkin, limp.

Your bush is on your
noddle: your eyes are too dull
to catch dawn's chestnut.

You are two species,
vicious and good. It is hard
to tell you apart