For Gladys and all the Facebook refugees
My second garden sonnet in May is about that little grey visitor that just seems to be Marmite for so many.
Come on in you maker of mischief you,
Your audience forestalls performance.
In the wings of shrubs, you await your cue,
To swish dandy tail and make your entrance.
Your balancing acts you perform with ease,
And sleight of hand is wondrous to admire,
My washing line becomes your famed trapeze,
While sulking faces of birds reveal their ire.
What tricks hide behind oval midnight eyes?
In my lawn, you’ll bury acorns in holes,
and upturn bird feeders – that’s no surprise,
But you’re far more welcome than Mister Mole.
A final question for Lewis Carroll,
Why did Alice not encounter Squirrel?
Please do leave me your thoughts and comments, in praise or constructive criticism, I appreciate them all and will reply.