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Click hereA squirrel died
I saw it through the picture window
Running, leaping, full of life
Making delicate footprints in the snow
Oblivious to the cold and wind
Then, suddenly
Something went terribly wrong
A misstep perhaps?
Streak of gray dropping to the ground
Limp form among the falling snow
I saw it twitch
It wasn't dead
Squirrels don't trip and fall
How silly of me
I went back to my mundane business
Washing dishes
Vacuuming floors
Dusting shelves
Hardening my arteries
But I had to look
It was getting dark
My new friend was still moving
as the snow buried
the exquisite form
Only the head and tail remained
But in that half lit glimpse
A sudden burst of wind fed snow
enveloped the creature in white
and then...oh my!
took it away in the night forever
I am very old now
and my eyes are dim
But when I looked through the window one last time
I saw the squirrel, and myself
Safe in the hands of God
the little critters for reeking havoc in our veggie gardens but we just shoo them away because we hate to see them die. Your poem exemplified that point, thank you.
Our Mr. Sack reveals his sensitive side in this relating of a squirrel's death. A beautiful rendering made even more special by someone who took the time to record its passing.
Furry-tailed rats croak in the snow
But let's hope our turn comes
At three in the morning
Warm buried under thick covers.
::sniffle::
I just had a quirrel die on me a few mos back. I tried to bring it back to life, but was too late. (sorry, got me thinking)
I really LOVED how you ended this. Beautiful work, sack!