I saw a squirrel scamper up a tree As twigs and leaflets swished in pastoral song, Assume the woodland crown by false decree, Then nip on peanut clippings all day long, Too high for affluent kings of modest reins: Transcending cloudy fumes of pinkish dyes, Above the cement slabs of earthly cranes, Beyond the spectral mount of purging sighs. Then watched I this prim monarchy collapse: The foliage rot, lush pigments slowly pale, The trunk decay from wroth woodpecker taps, The nuts turn sour, the drooping pinecones wail. The once ripe court, now shaped in contours bleak, Unveils an empire sunk for fowls to prick.