narrowly avoiding a roaring monster
unlike many of its counterparts.
I can only but stare in awe
at its acrobatic motion
as it ascends a steep fence
to reach a barren winter tree.
If it limped like me a predator
would indeed have a rich feast.
Sometimes consciousness is a curse,
too much time to ponder whilst the squirrel
has a purpose which I envy:
a wondrous sight, graceful and swift too,
it descends the tree... and disappears from view.