See the squirrel, see him scurry,
Seems he’s always, in a hurry.
Foraging for nuts and seeds,
He has to store them,for his needs.
For Spring is over,Summers gone,
He knows the Winter will be long.
The days of plenty they are past,
He needs to hoard,he cannot fast.
He doesn’t hibernate like others,
For him each day is like another.
He must have food, else he will die,
And bring a tear unto our eye.
We who see him every day,
Scurrying the hours away.