There are chipmunks meditating
Bunkered deep in stonewalls…
Waiting most breathlessly.
Are they dreaming of cheek pouches
Swollen with seeds?
Do they wander mindfully back to sun-streaked
Mornings and warm-velvet days filled
With the wood-chucking of their songs
As they earnestly shared
Their secrets with the universes?
They know that I was listening then,
Tapping my toes…
Can they help me now?
Can they tell me
What I need to know?