My Tryst with the Spry Squirrel

An evocative poem about a squirrel, with reference in the Ramayana, exclusively for Different Truths

I watched the spry squirrel 
scamper away hearing                                         
my footfall, its ear turned
to even slight dissonance of
sound and it rushed to guard
its nest; a fretful companion,
content to feed its
squealing offsprings, also
hearkening to my short fuse.
 
Its energy was unfailing;
it would sweep to the
terrace to grab any morsel
It could feed, the red stripes
on its back, blessed by mythical
Lord Ram*, kept egging it on
perhaps, it knew when
the windows would
drop down at night to squeeze
inside for a nap in its niche;
Its squealing heralded
the dawn of dawn too.
Nudging me to open
the window to the trove
of morning breeze flowing in;
And it would rush out.
 
Wonder what is its missive?
“Wake up Man, it’s time.”

*A mythological hero from the Indian epic Ramayana. 

Visual by Different Truths