The Squirrel

by VIRGINIA E. DUNBAR
THE upright squirrel gnaws
the nut of bread he holds
in his prehensile paws.
The tiny rodent teeth
chatter like a drill
on the bread beneath.
He is a small machine,
an engine housed in fur.
The fluffy serpentine
digression of his tail
reaches over him
and steers him like a sail.