The squirrel leaps from branch to bough, with knowing eyes and steady paw,
It sorts the feast by sense and sight, by nature’s truth, by simple law.
No council speaks, no lord commands, yet still it knows, without debate,
That what is real remains unchanged, no matter how the scribes dictate.
But man, who boasts of wit and lore, now stumbles where the creature thrives,
He twists his tongue and clouds his mind, yet wonders why his wisdom dives.
For if the beast may judge the seed, yet man denies what plain eyes see,
Then folly reigns where reason stood, and darkened minds will cease to be.
(By John Shenton)