A MIDNIGHT INCIDENT
A little squirrel pup, eyes not opened yet,
Lay under the investigating noses
Of our two dogs, too innocent to fret
About their hovering, intrusive poses.
I picked it off the ground at the oak’s base:
It was no longer than my outstretched palm
And breathing gently, oblivious to its case
Of seeming peril, lying serene and calm.
The best that I could think to do for it
Was lay it on a little fungus ledge
A yard above the ground, where it just fit
Close to the tree and farthest from the edge.
Gone in the morning, it was rescued by
Its mother, carrying it to their nest on high.