squirreled away

the squirrels begin
to stir about
at dawn
silhouetted by
the sunrise
scaling down
the trunk
of the oak tree
to search out
that acorn
hidden away
in September

for months you
live as if
life is fine
until one day
you dig up that
nut of sorrow
that you
squirreled away
then scamper off
to bury it again