Red Squirrel in Red Deer

Waiting for a meeting to start, always early,

time to worry, wrong place, wrong day?

I watched a small red squirrel at the foot of a large spruce

no time for self doubt there, but I wondered for him.

How did he choose which of the hundreds of cones

to hoard, to bury, to eat

how did he decide to leave his tree for another to get a cone there

to bury back here.

What instinct drove him, industrious, territorial

always acting, always moving.

What memories can he harbour in May of a winter to come?

And what should I hoard from this, what to treasure, from this moment

with its lesson in industry, preparation, self confidence with

a leavening of obsession.

                                               Guy