Squirrel Highway

It’s a squirrel highway

overpass to the Redwoods,

a bird rest stop where

they must hear our buzz,

                feel it through their pronged feet

Face this way

                then that way

then this way again,

one claw expertly anchoring

                as the other lightening pivots

                                swinging red breast around

Crossing and crissing

                faster and faster

                until a blur of wings

                leaves our

Voices to themselves again

Over the road where

We drive our cars

While talking on our phones without

Noticing the act on

The high wire above