Squirrels

Squirrels

There I sit, by the lake.
Two squirrels snooping around for something to take.

Empty fruit cups beside a trash can.
Squirrels descend on them like a crazy fan.

One squirrels gets it, he’s licking a cup.
The other can’t figure out how to turn it up.

He bites and scratches at the bottom.
It’s upside down, little guy, is what I want to tell him.

His buddy going to town,
searching around,
Whole head inside the cup, cleaning it up and down.

Meanwhile the other still determined to taste
the deliciousness of the leftover fruity waste.

From a distant tree a third squirrel appears.
Hops to the trash and strikes fear.

He runs the other two off, up the trees they run.
Third guy now owns this land under the sun.

The cups are now his, too, and trying to fill his tummy
He goes to the cup that’s upside down, what a dummy.

I approach with a goal to help out,
but he runs off with the cup in his mouth.

And such was my morning as I sat by the lake.

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