from a sturdy lad with corn shock hair
who favors dogs and fishing
early mornings before he bikes
to school noticing birds their songs
plants and flowers along the way–
this morning’s latest find– is

“how squirrels have started cutting”
that late autumn process of neatly
gnawing small twiglets twelve to
eighteen inches long and ferrying them
into their skyscrapers to begin
the intricate process of nest building.

he says “how it’s early this season
and going to mean a harsh winter
how they’ve already loaded acorns
and walnuts, pecans and hickories
into underground pantries
encircling their favorite tree”

we talk oak trees, black and burr,
white and pin oaks’ landscaping
abundance on city streets mast
littering sidewalks and crunching
under his bike wheels and he
wonders if squirrels get picky
or if a nuts a nut as the bell rings

year later I still count those nests
come autumn watch for first fall
of dropped cuttings that signal
nesting season has begun
gauge their height against old-timers’
tales that insist the higher the nests
the higher the snow

artisans of woods and urban jungle
these persistent and talented rodents
model forethought, planning, and diligence
culminating come November’s chill
in sleepy days and nights nose to busy tail
spent in well-earned hibernation.