Critique a Beaver's Tail

Critique a Beavers Tail

The deer, didn't say two words,
standing there in a snort, literally
stomping their feet. Then put their asses
in the air. That got the 'high'
crows to cackling, a noisy lot,
curious as a cub to a stream,
scared of their own shadow,
in conjunction they fled. When
the tree came crashing down. A page
turned in an earth-quake simile,
enjambment and a dusty metaphor risen.
Sent the squirrels looking for vacancy's, period
No one will notice the re-arranged wood,
like the smell of a skunk in print. But sun
at first light, our differences are shown
in the sky's color each morn, as new
synonyms, kiss all the hawks offspring's
weaving the same trail. Round
as a beaver's tail. Inherent methodical
chattering teeth, editing timber
a beaver knee deep in poetry.