Little squirrel with bushy tail[1]
From tree to tree I see you sail
Never once to see you fail,
The air to slice.
Wish I could learn to fly,
Against the vaulted, azure sky.
What a thrill, O me, O my –
It must be nice.
– eab, May, ’66
[1] This squirrel would jump from a locust tree to the brick wall and then take a piece of bread from my hand at the window (he got in one day and we concerned about Andy stopped this).
Separate-Holy 