The squirrel

He is so full in himself:how far down the branch to run,how long to jump, when to grab the airand catch in it and turn, and land on branchso gracefully it’s like dying, aloneand warm in a bed next to a summer windowand the birds singing. And on that branch thereis the squirrel dancing among the branchesand you think What if he fell? but he won’tbecause he’s a squirrel and that’s whatthey do, dance and never fall. It was erasedlong ago from the squirrel, eventhe possibility of falling was erasedfrom his being by the slow inexorable evolutionof squirrels, that is why all squirrelsare so full in themselves, full in who they are.