Nut Again

A Poem

Nut Again

A squirrel at work in morning,
Digging shallow holes,
Hiding walnuts that he’ll forget,
Till trees break out in full.

The sapling born a tiny sprout
And bearing stems thread-thin,
Stands not a chance to hold its root
When squirrels will dig again.

And when the sprout meets busy hands,
Out will come the nut,
One squirrel buries, another reaps,
Plus one to fill the rut.

And so it goes, this cycle vain,
One nut in, another out,
A tree to bloom but never grow,
And squirrels with not a doubt.

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