They scamper along the top of a wall,
Then wait their turn on a faded church sign
To cross the street on an overhead line,
Being careful not to fall.
Their light brown fur is standing on end
With tails outstretched, adjusting their balance.
It’s a privilege to witness such samples of talents
In these years of life I spend.
A hand or foot, on occasion, may slip,
But they stay atop the electrical cable.
Their remaining appendages keep themselves stable
As what faltered finds it grip.
And once they have bravely attained the far side,
I wonder what crossings my caution and fear have denied.
On Thursday afternoon, I was walking to the store and came upon a group of monkeys who were crossing over the street by crawling along an overhanging power line. I saw at least four or five, at various stages of approaching the line, crossing it, and the moving on once they reached the far side of the road. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to take a pictures, but it was pretty neat. Hopefully the poem provides a decent description.
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