The squirrels have built a palace
in the crook of a tree
high above my bedroom window.
Hanging gardens, stately
antechambers, harems
and exotic bazaars,
all hidden within a clump of leaves.
I see the dignitaries
come and go,
preening and twitching
like leaders of the great
industrialized nations of the world.
In the neighbor’s yard,
two members of parliament
argue the finer points
of the Sumerian calendar
while the blue jay
calls them names.
Issue