Dancing On My Shingles

Each night I lay and wait

anticipating their unceremonious arrival.

The celebratory gathering of antsy little feet,

performing their nocturnal two step under luminous sky

atop my coveted shingles.


After a long day

scouring the weary arms of my silver maples

every morsel retrieved

consecrated like a Greek God of the trees.

Why in the still of the night

must they dance atop my shingles?


It’s to the rhythm of this nightly promenade

I must find my sleep.

I close my eyes

at times

a perplexed smile I wear between each cheek,

baffled by the absurd imposition

and intrusion of my peace.


But for all those familiar sounds

amid a setting and rising sun,

there is none

like the boisterous unruly feet

that dance atop my shingles.




Copyright © 2014 by Daryl R. Gaines. All rights reserved






Author's Notes/Comments: 

Every night without fail the squirrels have a party on my roof. For some unknown reason they prefer my shingles to the trees

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willow's picture

Hahaha! I thank those

Hahaha! I thank those squirrels for inspiring you to write this poem :)

They should me honoured :3