Swinging Through the Trees

Swinging Through the Trees

Swinging,
Through the trees,
With a squirrel,
Isn't easy,
When,
There's a heavy breeze.
The strength,
Of a squirrel,
Can,
Be judged,
By the length,
Of its body,
From nose to tail.
While,
Swinging through,
The trees,
With a squirrel,
Mother nature's,
Beauty,
Sets my heart a whirl.
I love,
Swinging,
Through the trees,
With a squirrel,
Sometimes,
The spring pollen,
Makes us sneeze.
On,
Misty mornings,
When,
The day,
Is just beginning,
Squirrel,
And I,
Receive a warning,
It's the lonesome cry,
Of a loon,
The beautiful call,
Sets a spider spinning.
Swinging,
Through the treetops,
Squirrel and I,
Spot a lake.
The loon,
Yodels again,
For our sake.
Swinging,
Through the trees,
All day,
With a squirrel,
Is,
A lot of work,
But we get our pay.
While swinging,
Through the trees,
With a squirrel,
We hear birds singing.
Are you hungry?
After all our leaping,
Yes Mr. Squirrel,
As we sit,
Atop a pine,
Twilight,
Comes creeping,
Through the forest,
Simply divine.

© Jim Smart

The Lead Goat Veered Off

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