The squirrel is a lively symbol of forest bustle, agility, and thoughtful foresight. Its leaps through the branches, the flickering of its red tail, and its thrifty nature have long been a source of inspiration for poets, especially in the context of autumn and the approaching winter. In poems, it often appears as the personification of carefree cheerfulness or, conversely, an anxious premonition of cold. This collection brings together lyrical sketches in which the squirrel appears sometimes as a cheerful inhabitant of the spruce treetops, sometimes as a quiet reminder of the cyclical nature and the value of every collected nut.
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Red-haired mischief-maker
A beautiful squirrel lives in the forest, with a fluffy tail and black eyes. She's agile, quick, and works wonders with nuts, not at all timid. She hops along the branches like a shadow, searching for pine cones hidden in the treetops. Her daily work is tending to the stores that are so important to her in her breath. In winter, when blizzards are fierce, she neither hungers nor freezes at all. The hollow tree is cozy, and her storerooms are full, like in a fairy tale.
Autumn Treasure
The autumn forest, a crimson carpet, the squirrel hurries, restless. A warm space awaits her in the hollow, where she lovingly hides her winter supplies. Nuts, pine cones, wild berries, she drags them all into the hiding place, toiling diligently. These supplies are her life's bread and butter, so that hunger in winter won't catch her unawares, unafraid. And so, when the cold weather comes, the squirrel will warm herself and sleep in the hollow. And she will remember how in the autumn the forest always helped her, so that she wouldn't suffer in the winter.
Winter's Tale
The snow is silver, the frost is growing stronger, the squirrel sleeps quietly in its hollow. A snowstorm rages and plays outside, but she feels warm, and sleep protects her. In her dreams, she sees summer meadows, where the sun shines and the grass grows. And she runs, light and stern, and puts ripe berries in her mouth, as if they were waiting. She will wake in spring, full of strength and light, and go back to the forest, to her business. And she will be glad for the sun and summer, and the new life that will blossom before her.
Forest acrobat
The squirrel hops nimbly along the branches, As if she's not at all afraid of heights. Her movements are quick and dexterous, And therein lies all her forest beauty, her dreams. She can jump and fly, And hide in the leaves, as if invisible. And keep nuts in a hollow, never lose heart, And delight us with her playful display. In the forest, she's a true star, Always on the move, always in sight. And everyone who sees her will always Feel joy and happiness in their soul, as if in paradise.
The tail is like a banner
A squirrel's tail is like a bright banner, proudly fluttering in the wind. It helps her leap like a flame, and maintain her balance, as in the world. When she runs along a tree trunk, her tail serves as a rudder and balance beam. And in this lies all her forest strength, as in paradise, grace, agility, and a wondrous world. And in winter, when everything around is white, the tail becomes a warm blanket. And the squirrel feels cozy and confident in it, hiding from the cold, as in a fairy tale, as in a ballad.
The Nut Thief
The squirrel is a nut thief, no doubt about it. She drags them into the hollow of a tree without hesitation. And hides there, in a secluded oblivion, Her supplies for the winter, stocking up. She walks around all the trees, Looking for the ripest nuts. And if she's lucky, then suddenly Her pantry will be full, like an echo. But sometimes disaster strikes, Someone else steals the nuts. And then the squirrel is sad, as always, But quickly forgets, and on her way again, like in a fairy tale.
In search of cones
A squirrel runs through the forest, unhurriedly, in search of pine cones, large and beautiful. She loves them, as life is good, and drags them into the hollow, like wondrous treasures. She climbs tall spruce trees, and searches for the best pine cones. And if she's lucky, then suddenly, like in the Kremlin, her pantry will be full, like in a book. And so, when winter comes, the squirrel will gnaw on pine cones in the hollow. And remember how good it was, when she searched for them in the autumn forest, on the ground.
Little forest dweller
The squirrel is a tiny forest dweller. She lives in a hollow tree, warm and cozy. And she loves the forest like a spectator, And runs along the branches, as if in a field, as if in a circle. She plays with other squirrels, And hides in the leaves, as if invisible. And gnaws nuts, like in a fairy tale, like in a ballad, And delights us with her playful picture. And if you go for a walk in the forest, You will definitely see a squirrel. And you will be happy to see her, as if dreaming, And you will remember this day for a long time, as if in chalk.
A red tail flashed
A red tail flashed in the silence, a squirrel darted through the branches like an arrow. Like a ray of sun through dense foliage, she vanished, leaving peace behind. She was searching for nuts and pine cones, preparing supplies for the harsh winter. There is not a drop of laziness in her work, only labor and care, the foundation of life. In the forest, she is a symbol of dexterity, grace, and wild beauty that knows no bounds. The squirrel is a small miracle of the nation, within her lies the secret of nature and fairy-tale beliefs.
Winter sleep in a hollow
In a cozy hollow, in a soft bed, the squirrel sleeps soundly, preserving her winter sleep. Outside, a blizzard howls and snowstorms, but she feels warm, happy, and unafraid. In her dreams, she dreams of green summer, ripe berries, and sunlight. And she runs, light and bold, and this is her whole life, like a sonnet. She will wake in the spring, full of strength and vigor, and go back to the forest to her business. And she will be glad for the sun and joy, and the new life that will blossom before her.
Forest Mistress
The squirrel is a skilled forest host, Her pantry is always in order and in harmony. Nuts, pine cones, mushrooms – everything is whole, And everyone knows where to look for what, like in a garden. She stores wisely, So as not to starve or suffer in the winter. And every day she works, as if she were home, And enjoys life, And loves to play. And if you see her in the forest, Then remember that she is part of nature. And cherish her as you would your destiny, And savor her beauty, like a melody.
The Squirrel and the Wind
The wind plays and rustles in the branches, the squirrel clings to the trunk with its paws. Her red fur trembles and shivers, but she is not afraid, she is as strong as an ox. She knows how to wait out a storm, how to hide in a hollow, how to shelter from troubles. And when the wind dies down, as in a fury, she will go out to hunt again, as if into the light. And she will run through the branches, as before, and collect nuts, and rejoice in life. And in this lies all her strength and hope, and the beauty of wild nature, as in a funeral feast.