I watched a Western Gray Squirrel jump along the fence at my mother's house today - fat little guy, but nimble. It's hard not to like a squirrel, even if it is, by nature, a scold, and even if it eats the cherries from my cherry trees before they can ripen - squirrels are in cahoots with the crows on this. They also bury peanut shells around/among the perennials in my yard - where they get the peanuts, I have no idea, but when I turn the dirt, I find the shells. Still, I like squirrels. Such tails! Such chatter! Such unrepentant self-regard! In their honor, I offer up this poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who must have felt the same about the critters. The bottom line of this fable is right there for all to see: "Talents differ."
Fable
The
mountain and the squirrel
Had
a quarrel;
And
the former called the latter ‘Little Prig.’
Bun
replied,
‘You
are doubtless very big;
But
all sorts of things and weather
Must
be taken in together,
To
make up a year
And
a sphere.
And
I think it no disgrace
To
occupy my place.
If
I’m not so large as you,
You
are not so small as I,
And
not half so spry.
I’ll
not deny you make
A
very pretty squirrel track;
Talents
differ; all is well and wisely put;
If
I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither
can you crack a nut.’
I think I'll memorize this poem, and when things come along that I don't understand, I'll just say, "...all sorts of things and weather / Must be taken in together, / To make up a year / And a sphere." Thanks again to Mr. Emerson, for transcendentalism and for thoughts on the souls of things large and small.
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Ralph Waldo Emerson |
The round-up for today's Poetry Friday is over at Buffy's Blog (thanks, Buffy.) Head over there to see what other people have posted.