the squirrel reconnoitres,
bristling at every sound then –
falling heir to discarded treasure –
like a bride dashing from commitment
down tawny hued tunnel,
under larch lace canopy,
near tree trunk canvass displaying nature’s design,
past jade necked ducks
parading and squabbling,
their pecking order a parody of politicians.
Then all is still once more
but for branch reflections
scribbling watery snakes in endless oscillation.
Copyright © Carolyn O’Hara 2013
I live in Prestwick with my husband, and we have two grown up daughters. I have always had a love of the written word but only took up writing three years ago when I joined Ayr Writers’ Club and was encouraged to be adventurous. Since then I have had two articles published in Scottish Memories.