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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
Hahaha! I thank those
Hahaha! I thank those squirrels for inspiring you to write this poem :)
They should me honoured :3