Squirrel

(In response to Bartholomew Barker’s November Visual Poetry Prompt)
By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

We sat eye to eye
Me, inside my warm, cozy cabin
Sweet scent of hot apple cider
dancing happily around me

Him, resplendent in his home
Snow framing his petite form
Boughs of evergreen
bouncing softly in the breeze

A bite of my cinnamon stick
He gnawed on his and stopped
Taunting me
Teasing me

A chattered challenge
I took up the melee
popping the entire sweet
onto my exuberant tongue

Not to be outdone
he devoured his delight
Those sharp teeth sawing
with meticulous precision

Shiny brown eyes glare at me
through frost glazed windows
Two cinnamon sticks had I
poor mr squirrel he had none

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