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Squirrel
Here I am, I’m the squirrel!
I store nuts in a hole,
Before it gets too cold.
I scurry from tree to tree,
Collecting all the nuts that be.
I put them in holes near and far,
So that I forget where many are!
Look up at me and I’ll give you some cheek,
Then run up a branch without a creak.
Some probably think I am a nut,
Burying like I have no head, but;
God made me,
And that is just who I will be.
See me here, see me there,
I’m everywhere!
I’m the squirrel!
poem
by
Joses Tirtabudi
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