Chipmunk
by J.O. Wiesner
In that state of idle curiosityone spends in retirement,
I sit on the back steps
and observe things.
An airplane, silver and distant,
slowly flickers through
the branches of an oak tree.
Around me acorns thump and roll
like caramel-colored jawbreakers.
Blended among the falling leaves,
a chipmunk watches me.
He does not need my Social Security.
For him there is no other way
but living at risk. Cats, dogs,
my neighbors are always after him.
Still, he plunges ahead with the
daring and dash of an optimist.
I see this tiny creature
stuff his cheeks with acorns,
run a zigzag path from nest to old age
and disappear into earth's darkness.
He lives, mates, and dies.
No birth certificate. No obituary.
He will never learn a trade,
never find a good job.
And never, never retire.
