Posted by: Pucadyil | February 3, 2010

Squirrels in my Garden

Remember Thurber’s hilarious take-off
on Gertrude Stein’s “Pigeons on the grass, alas!”
terse portrait of a landscape in verse?
I have read it with great approval
from my well thumbed Thurber Carnival
acquired from a bookshop in Garching
near Munich, in a desultory evening
Reading it again, sitting on my lawn
I must confess that I was drawn
to consider the squirrels in my garden
running around in absolute abandon
Stein’s pigeons, according to Thurber
are superior critters poised and sober
moving around in measured hops
contemplative, cool, admirable toffs
my squirrels surpass brothers Marx
in their slapstick and recurrent pranks
chasing each other in elaborate attacks
around the garden; up down the tracks
the squirrels provoke nothing less than
an “Oh My God!”, not alas
when you see them in my garden
frolicking in absolute abandon


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