The summer's gone and autumn's due; <br />I hear the squirrel squeak this morn; <br />Its noisiness is heard again, <br />Disturbing neighbor-hood each dawn. <br /> <br />The fruits on trees are small, unripe; <br />The squirrel's hunger pangs are high; <br />It does not find fruits to nibble, <br />As subdued taste-buds, almost cry. <br /> <br />But soon, the rodent's life will change, <br />As ripened fruits and nuts emerge; <br />Its wait for months is on the wane; <br />Its gala time is on the verge.<br /><br />Dr John Celes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-squirrel-3/
