Squirreled Away

As Autumn leaves blow from trees so fast,
a squirrel works tirelessly to create a nest,
a warm drey to stay and survive the winter.

Twig after stick after pine needle it runs
across the ground and up the trees, across
branches and up, up, high as the sky,

creates a messy and cosy warm football sized ball of
woven undergrowth, lined with moss, grass and bark,
right next to the tree trunk for safety, a place to call

home; filled with acorns, seed and berries, a safe abode
to raise her young and survive the freezing winter;
and I wonder if perhaps we do the same, in a way?