In the middle of the road, a squirrel stands, 

Hesitant, harried, with tiny hands. 

Left, then right, a dance of doubt, 

A road-crossing riddle, in and out.

 

This furry fellow, frazzled and fretting, 

Each car’s approach, a brand new setting. 

Darting daringly, then a pause, a stall, 

A nutty navigator, risking it all.

 

“Oh, should I scamper, should I stay?” 

The squirrel wonders in the light of day. 

Cars honk and hurry, yet he’s undecided, 

In the midst of lanes, he's stranded, benighted.

 

Back and forth, a fluffy tail twirls, 

A zigzag pattern, as the drama unfurls. 

“Left looks lovely, but right seems right,” 

Internal debates, a pedestrian’s plight.

 

His eyes like beads, darting with fear, 

Each move a gamble, so unclear. 

The pavement’s hot, the grass seems far, 

A tiny traveler, under sun and star.

 

With a twitch of whiskers, a sudden sprint, 

A decision made in a minute's glint. 

But wait! He turns, a second thought, 

The road’s expanse, with danger fraught.

 

Finally, with a fearless leap, 

He dashes, dashes, a jump so steep. 

Reaching safety, with a sigh so deep, 

The indecisive squirrel, a leap to keep.

 

And there he sits, on the grassy side, 

Pondering the road, wide-eyed. 

A tale of tails, in the daily grind, 

The drama of crossing, in a squirrel's mind.