This was written for dVerse, where I once again missed the prompt for this week but have decided to write the poem regardless. 🙂 We were asked to write about being in a garden/gardening/something to do with gardens or gardening.
Squirrel in the Willows
As I read a poem in the garden tender willow stems sway down. Glancing up at the gray ambusher, her bushy-tail bobbing, I see her chew more stems that fall more pointedly. Will she collect them in the morning? scamper back up the willow insert them ever so? The last nesting of the year as the summer days shorten the setting sun sprinkles foreshadow gold across the leaves.