I spied you making your way up
the trunk of the weeping crab apple,
along it’s slender branches
each node forking off to another,
then through a tangled mess of flowers
that reminded me it was Spring.
You scampered along the wooden balustrade
of the balcony, where the paint was peeling
and marked off the area like your own;
Nay, you pissed on it, every bit of the way up the roof
and then through the terminal foliage
down the trunk and on the grass again.
Encroaching upon my real estate,
No negotiations with the realtor ,
no need to look up the MLS
and here you were, with the best view
merely by tracing a path through scent alone.
I realised what is mine is yours,
so you thought,
And what is yours is mine,
so I thought
And what is mine is mine,
we each thought.
Then it dawned upon me,
the fallacy of possession across the species.
The gray squirrel has many lessons to teach despite the amusement it provides. This poem is one of the many, featuring the way of the tao as seen in the animal world.
This poem has been featured in the Rising Phoenix Review