Bushy Tail

A poem

Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash

It jumps and runs,
seemingly always on the far side.
You try and try,
keep circling the tree.
All you ever glimpse,
a bushy tail disappearing.
To see that face,
too much to ask.
Bright, inquisitive,
ears perked up.
Hands just like ours,
innocent, there it ends.

Words © Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites