The Squirrel and the Apple

The Squirrel and the Apple

by Kelp

walking briskly on a chilly day
in fall along the suburban tree-
lined street where people rarely walk, i

stopped to watch a squirrel struggle with
an apple – bruised, but whole – discarded
or perhaps dropped by someone from a

passing car; the fruit was almost the
size of the animal – a prize – an
unexpected find – i watched him try

to hold it in his mouth and transport
it up the tree where he could store it
for colder days he knew were coming,

but the apple was too much for him,
too heavy and too big; his head flopped
comically from side to side, flopping

right then flopping left -- then right -- then left
as he tried to climb the tree without
falling
or dropping
the apple; but
drop it did
when he was part
way up,
and then down
he came to retrieve it

again – and again – and again – and
again he grasped the apple in his
mouth, the weight made his head flop back and

forth, his claws held tight to the bark as
slowly ascending, with flopping head,
he lost his grip yet one more time as

the apple fell to the ground rolling;
i marvelled at his persistence and
at his inability to learn

from all his failed attempts, until a
passing cyclist made him want to cross
the street leaving the apple behind.

as i walked home, smiling, noticing
now that all the trees were raining leaves,
i thought of all the times that i have

done the same thing over and over
again, comically or tragically,
hoping to achieve what i could not.