Privilege

To think there are people who
  have never seen a squirrel,
Who spend their lives seeing only
  tigers, or polar bears, or leopards,
Who have never laughed at those bushy tails,
Or watched them store up acorns,
Or disappear up a tree.
Perhaps it is a deprivation those
Who contemplate only ostriches
  don't even know they suffer,
Just as most of us will never
  know we're missing the
  tangy taste of fried worms.
It is good to remember or privilege;
Not everyone sees a tiny
  fellow scamper up an oak.

( Privilege is a poem by Carol Bialock, RSCJ)