Leave Well, Enough...

Through the misty Morning fog

come Squirrel,

fat and sassy,

with a blackened nose

from having,

once again

dug up a nut

 to place somewhere else,

somewhere safe...

 

He does not see my

ground blind

of Wood and Leaf,

nor does he catch

my scent

for my last layer

is always

Wood-smoke...

 

Bouncing noiselessly

in the sodden leaves,

he starts and stops

looks here, looks there

'till he comes to

a fallen branch

forming a bridge

over a rock...

 

Upon his back
goes Squirrel

and jams the nut
in a notch somewhere

and goes off,

almost giggling

to himself...

 

...

The nut falls,

Crow descends;

his laughter,

and mine

never end...
Dec. 10, 2104