Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash

There is a wealth of squirrels playing
On the playground this morning.
Two dart across our path, two more
Circle a tree just ahead.
Several are dashing toward each
Other and then running apart
On the grassy hill, and others
Further away leap onto tree
Trunks,  chatter into the air,
Tails twitching furiously.
I stop to watch, enchanted
At such a scene.

It dawns on me that
He should be dashing
Among them, child
Being at one with those
In such a celebration
Of morning.

I turned to ask him why
He was still. He was
Looking up.
Crow passes over, wheels
In flight and comes
To pass over again.

“Do you see the squirrels?
Look how many. I love how
They are playing.”
He looks briefly at the
Scattering animals,
And says “But the
Black bird knows me.”
He hitches his book bag
Onto his shoulders and
Walks on.