About Some Sort of Nature - Sonnet 52

When morning gives you pause, and pinecones fall

From off their wooded anchors to the ground,

Peer through your window and observe it all,

Then listen to the wisdom I have found:

Rewrite yourself into the snowy squirrel

Who stumbles on a hundred-dollar bill

And, understanding him to be an earl

Among the simple rodents, has his fill;

But all the nest-mates fail to understand 

The gravity of his quite sudden fate

(For what they see may only be a grand

Green paper carpet fitting for their gate);

The seasons change, the leaves may come and go;

Behold and smile: there’s always more to know.