Do what you're not to do and pay
sayeth the hanging judge,
but two squirrels think
nothing of suffering as they
rev like racers at the foot of
the tree, mooning me,
with their bushy tailed ani
twitching at what they see.
My synapses fire at a mere java lick.
To the rodent, heaven is a nut
fallen, and paws don't wait,
grabbing glee with all a small
body can muster.
While I sip at my thick brew
awaiting the grace of a later day,
the squirrel's already got hers . . .
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