Sunday Squirrels
by james bezerra
On Sundays the campus squirrels
rule the place.
Lay in the sun on the concrete
like they wouldn’t dare on other days.
Days when classes are in and
the world is full of feet.
On Sundays they come
down from the trees,
out of the grass.
Their weekday cares suspended.
Climb the walls. Roam the halls.
Conduct classes of their own.
On Sundays
all of this is their city
of leisure:
chittering chases in the Quad.
Gnawing books
forgotten on Friday.
On Sundays if
a lost student meets one,
it will not scurry from the path.
It won’t run at all. Just stand.
Sniff. Survey, as if to ask:
What are you doing here?
.
.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment