Fat squirrels line the rim
of this here canyon,
taking pretzels, bars, and trail mix --
why, they'll even take your bag!
They lumber slowly down the switchbacks,
sit and wait there, over yonder,
then approach...
They fluff and pout
and then succeed in looking needy.
So convincing are their acts!
Those squirrels will front
their fat as fur, rejecting carrots,
all the while projecting famished curiosity.
Facades of grays and browns
obscure their portly little appetites,
complexities of nature that I'll never understand.
Don't feed the squirrels or you'll regret it,
for they sprawl across the boulders
eating snacks -- their chatty laughter
fills the canyon as they sit, obesely happy,
on those dimply, paunchy haunches,
unfamiliar with cholesterol and calories,
arteriosclerosis not a thing
they'd understand.
Don't feed the squirrels!
They'll only mock you as they
dine on your donations, more in touch
with human nature than the nature of the trail.
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