Squirrels

A combination of a squeak and a thick chirp,

Sounds the squirrel when it speaks,

Halfway up the coconut palm, it sits,

And engages in a loud, garrulous talk.

When it wishes to scuttle across the terrace,

It first looks left, then right,

If it sees me standing close, watching it,

It halts to appraise me, shrewdly. 

My tiny, subtle movement is all it takes,

To scare it into running back to a farther spot,

But if I stay as still as it,

It quickly chances a run across the tiled terrace.

Many a time,I desired to befriend one,

But they are always as afraid as they are cute,

With their bushy tail standing straight up,

They race away from my amiable approach.