by Douglas Lanzo
Copyright 2022

First published in WestWard Quarterly (Spring Issue 2022)

Through the brush and up a tree,
a young cub scampers merrily;
Curious, he explores the bark,
then paws a toad and scares a lark.

A chiding squirrel does pass him near,
before it passes out in fear.
As Mamma gingerly alights,
she whirls and snarls, then nearly bites.

The would-be-prankster scurries down,
coyly avoiding Mamma’s frown,
from having had to intervene,
climbing his birch to rid the scene…

Of foolish capers, youngster’s dare,
to see whether the branch would bear,
his weight combined with red squirrel prey,
less midday meal and more shear play.

His paws now safely on the ground,
his Mom descends in one quick bound,
to lead him to a pristine brook,
using her claw as one large hook.

She swipes and stuns a spotted trout,
tossed on a rock to free all doubt,
whether it shall elude her grip,
or wriggle free from flop or flip.

She shares a tasty morsel of,
its sweet meat with her son beloved.
The cub appreciates the feast,
his patience for a time increased.

In thanks rubbing against her fur,
contented, gentle and demure,
he follows Mom to nearby den,
to nap and dream by forest glen.