I watch a squirrel outside in a tree, <br />he seems so alive and free, <br />hopping from one tree to the next one, <br />I watch and think what fun. Down the trunk to the ground, <br />scampering, hunting all a round, <br />until the nuts have been found, <br />back up the tree he goes, <br />while a gentle breeze blows, <br />tree to tree he leaps, <br />you can not even hear a peep. Into his home he goes, <br />the winter harvest he sows, <br />day by day he repeats these steps, <br />so his family will be well kept.<br /><br />Kathleen Johnson-Breakfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/father-squirrel-dedicated-to-my-father/
