I saw a squirrel this morning
under shopping carts, at the A& P,
without any warning
scurrying everywhere, seemingly carefree,
for the stray nut
or morsel of food
they do nothing but
they brighten one’s mood
with their speed so jerky
impossible to caress
their movements so quirky
telephone wire homes’ address
not long before,
with a friend at prayer,
not God to implore
but together to share
doubts and dismay
about life and its use
early feelings falling prey
to our minds on the loose
Left with a sigh
surrender to living
so frightened to die
we fall back to giggling
like kids in a classroom
carefree, immortal
a respite from doom
from life's final portal.
I wonder today,
so soon to Yom Kippur
is there something to say
that can rid me of the bitter
truth, clutching and rolling,
like the darting squirrel
we whirl and twirl
death's ringing bell tolling,
another year of closer to
who shall live? who shall die?
where to find the clue
whether low or high?
in a parking lot
or up a tree
like a squirrel not yet caught
skittish and free.
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