Squirrel

Grey squirrel
Small beast
Storing up a winter’s feast,
Hides a hundred nuts at least.

Nook and cranny stocked with seed
Tucked away for winter’s need.
Acorns stuck in hole and crack.
Will he ever get them back?

When the snow is piled up high
And the year is at December,
Can he really still remember
Where he hid them in September?

I have watched him from my window
And he always seems to know
Where the food he hid is waiting
Buried deep beneath the snow.

And I wonder
(Do you wonder?)
How he knows where he must go.