Ben Oostdam story # 323

THE SQUIRREL AND THE CANOE

by Gwyn McVay
I am trembling like a what's - this leaf for my presumption,
but I stick to my story, -Dorothy Parker

Dazed and disrupted
to find
itself in metal.
after its fall
			
from the sweet, tall ash
to the hull,
straight between the gunwales. I well
emphathize, furry little buddy.
			
Listen! I am stunned,
it said, hearing long ringing
			
chimes from your window: the man
played on, oblivious
to the squirrel's dilemma. How now,
when it heard a hammered ovation
			
for its fine performance? Where had it been
in its life, that was like this canoe,
			
beached under sycamore, half in the Virgin
Mary's miniature grotto? There she stands,
			
beseeching all small thing,
a foot tall herself, the patroness
			
of gobsmacked rodents who peel
themselves up and scramble to land,
			
Maybe it became a voyager,
Maybe, thus shaken, it learned to explore.

picts
BLO
fecit
20091030

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