Along the old wood fence
A squirrel scurries
An acorn in its mouth
All is quiet except
The faint rustle of an
Old cherry tree
The lantern hanging
From the small white hook
Shivers and lies still
More rustling
A leaf flutters away
Leaving no trace
The one branch
On the elm that
Sticks out a little
Farther than the others
Sways to the beat of the
Peace only disturbed
Once by the brown hare
Which disappears as
Quickly as it came
Under the bush of
Ripe ruby berries
Which poison all but the birds