flat and frozen on the pavement,
your dash for freedom brief and brave, meant
nothing when my mother came
and squashed your tiny, squirrely frame
into a pancake with her car
and left you as an ugly scar
upon our once pristine asphalt
where your life came to a halt.
you have lain there since july,
a mangled corpse of roadkill pie.
no one wants to touch you now,
not after you have shown us how
you can't be moved by the lawn mower,
steel-tipped shovel or snowblower,
you've been through snow and sleet and hail,
now all that's left is one leg and a tail.
oh, tough and tenacious little guy,
why do you refuse to die?
do you think your grief and pain
was meaningless and all in vain?
never fear, you are a reminder
to my mom to look behind her
as she's backing up the car
she will thank her lucky stars
that the fast-eroding features
of this luckless woodland creature
smashed and pasted to the ground
will make her pause and look around
to make sure that the neighbor's cat
won't cross behind and be squashed flat.
your courage in the face of fear
has inspired far and near
all the lovers of the fight
to not go gentle into that good night,
and rest assured that you will not
be pushed aside and then forgot,
for on this day we all do stand
in reverent awe with drink in hand
and lift a glass around the world
to you, oh ralphie, the driveway squirrel.
