The Squirrel
Wakes and leaves its nest
Searches the lawn for
Treats left by me
Or my family
Or acorns
Or seeds
Or anything
In a hard year
In a spare year
In a year of hardship
It will take what it can get
And if nothing can be found
On the lawn
It picks up a leaf
Crumples it in its mouth
And brings it back to its nest
As bedding and insulation
The practicality of this activity
Impresses me
And reminds me
To leave a little something
For those who have
Nothing
The sun rises, the sun sets
The moon waxes and wanes
The green life rises and leafs out
Fauns and children are born and grow
Old people hold hands, walking into the sunset
Rain waters the earth
Blue skies catch our breath
Birds sing
Fish splash
Squirrels leap
Chipmunks search the undergrowth for seeds
Woodpeckers knock, while skunks hunt for grubs below
Tiny sparks of life burrow in the earth and dance in the air
People help each other
People they know
And people they do not know
They set up funds, institutions, and ways of life to see to the care and shelter of others
For people they will never meet, for those who will come long after they have gone
Others have labored, and we have entered into their labors
Good is not the exception
We live in a very blessed world
We do not light a single lamp in the darkness
But add our light to the constellations lighting the sky
We do not sing alone in a vile place
But join the celestial chorus
There are those who do not hear
Who turn away
Who see the dark first, who struggle to pick out any good
Who cannot see how very blessed we are
Who cannot imagine the world of sharing that we really live in
And we must sing to them
And raise our light, our hearts
There is enough grace,
enough good,
… enough God for all of us
Raise your light!
I heard a strange cry this morning;
An insistent cry;
A mournful, catbird-like cry;
It was a young squirrel, sitting on a branch,
Calling to her mortally wounded brother;
Who crouched, groggy with his injuries;
In the middle of the road.
I was able to get the little wounded animal into a box;
With shredded paper in the bottom for litter;
But it rapidly expired.
There was little I could do for our little brother;
With his wonderful fluffy tail;
And his soft creamy underbelly;
His clever paws, and his bright eyes;
I have prayed that God will accept his little soul;
Into God’s everlasting garden;
Where the trees are full of nuts and fruit;
And the ground is soft and forgiving;
And I also pray for the little lonely girl-squirrel;
Whose brother was taken from her so early;
And whom she so clearly mourned.
Something of the unifying life,
Something of God;
Dwells in these our furry cousins;
Our ability to love did not spring from nothing,
But grew, evolved from the little loves of creatures like these.
Somewhere in our ancestral tree,
Dwelt elders not unlike these;
Little lives and little souls;
Who lived, and loved, and leapt;
And who knew what it is to mourn.
Brother Squirrel was laid to rest near his family
beneath the giant oak tree where he lived.
