Shakesquirrel
What lightning from yonder window breaks
Raining down in torrential fortitude,
When thou sought out the highest tree
With nest of leaves and pine bough’s crude.
All that glitters is not gold
I find from this my lofty height,
While mortals build on ground at bay
We squirrels build high and out of sight.
Now is the summer of my discontent
Where the storms taunt me - I goofed,
Alas the eagle suffers little birds to sing
Where is the framing of thy roof?
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.