I thought of this poem while watching my squirrel digging through the snow. With so little snow it’s easy to see where he goes as he digs his tunnels, since they are not quite hidden from view. And this took place on one of our coldest days.
Running, playing in the snow,
How he does it I don’t know.
There he digs his tunnel now,
Moving fast, just like a plow.
Soon up pops his little head,
Should be brown, he’s white instead.
Little squirrel having fun,
Every day he likes to run.
With little snow I can see
Him digging fast, wild and free.
There he goes, now turns around,
The fun he has does abound.
It’s hard to know why he would
Come play outside, when he could
Stay nice and warm in his home,
Yet, in cold, he likes to roam.
Down again, he digs through snow,
Having fun, look at him go!
© 2019 Steve McLeod.