Some warning from this marching squirrel band
A tell-tale sign of things to come
Of swishing tales
Of cracking whip
Of hazelnut dips
Tastefully chewed from within this frenetic nut
like a bolt from the blinding blue;
a rainbow blur of red, yellow, green,
and a tiny touch of effervescent black.
My squirrel playground dominates
my every waking thought:
whilst I stare in amongst the cracks.
I pause, I stop, I stare in wonder; jaw a gape!
As a squirrel stops to play the spoons
in a shimmering tune
followed by a tambourine’s twirl
A reverie for the pack to split
And chase me round a rainbow tree
All this and it’s an early nine
I should rise and face the cacophony of doom