A squirrel squeals...! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

On a hot noon
In mid June,
A squirrel
Races down a black
Iron pipe
Wagging her tail,

Full of energy
Squeaks
In delight,
Her ears alert
Nodding her
Head from side to side.

I watch
From my window
Lying on a soft bed,
In an air conditioned room
Feeling frail,
Just as power fluctuates...

Has God equipped
These creatures to adapt,
Or we have over taxed
Our thermostat…
and our adaptability
lies dormant...

poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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