A Spring In The Step

When I think of springing steps, I conjure up images of squirrels and the way they bound and flow so gracefully across the ground, tails rippling behind; or launch themselves with power and agility from branch to branch above our heads.

They are always a joy to watch; red squirrels in particular, though these are not so easy to find nowadays. They inhabit a few enclaves in the islands where they once roamed supreme.

The last time I saw some was in the grounds of Southport Crematorium a few months ago. I was feeling rather leaden, given the location and the occasion, as you might imagine. Tufty and company quite unwittingly proved a momentarily uplifting sight on an otherwise sad day and gave me, for a while at least, something of a spring in my own step.

Here's Tufty ;-)

This poem, recently disinterred like a forgotten nut from the forest floor of past endeavours, was originally written four decades ago. Time fades away. I've just nibbed and spruced it up a bit for public presentation. It captures the sense of an ending; that of the first serious long-term relationship I was involved in. Nowadays it's fashionable to call such partings 'conscious uncoupling'...

Not Really About Squirrels
We wandered through hazel woods,
the day was warm and air smelled good.

Within that dappled cavern of green leaves
stirred gently by a lazy breeze
we followed squirrels
as they leaped from tree to tree...

...and afterwards decided
not to live together anymore.

We both felt warm and tender
and a little sad
for the loss of what we'd had.


Thanks for reading. Have a good week, S ;-)