Poetry Pick

FEBRUARY VISITOR
Patricia Scrimgeour


The black squirrel
Stretches out
On the window sill;

My passing glance
Stops,
Softly strokes
The angora fur;

Slowly
My face moons
Over him,
Pushes against
The fragile transparency
Of glass;

One black eye
Holds me
Captive,
While his somnolent self
Absorbs
The heat
Of the concentric
Sun:

Our motionless states
Balance
In time.

On palm cooled beaches
Bikinis stretch
In limitless waves
While a black
Squirrel suns
In a frozen white garden.

From Tower Poetry Vol. 54 #2,
Winter Edition 2005-2006


 

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