dew settles as every dawn becomes day
the early bird chirps during the dreary morning.
cold & lifeless, yet after rain
the breakfast worms come squirming...
the mist is most easy to handle -
as they fly in flocks from tree to tree;
some on power-lines & high branches,
& some along the ground among debris.
they say even blind squirrels find a nut every now and then,
with no cane or sense of direction -
just hands toward the earth with backs bent
trying to make the right selection.
but regardless, drenched or dry
the bird will shake it off & fly.
land on the branch that'll shake the acorn tree
& give a squirrel another chance to see.
only if it was as easy as a metaphor,
yet we're all indeed like mother nature...
whether you're me, the wet bird
or a squirrel in need of favors.