The Squirrel By Dawn E. Powell What would incite him To dart out like that: Arrow-like And Confident? This creature: Trapeze artist by day, Swinging spryly From tree branch To bird feeder To tree branch. Unaware of timing... How timing is everything. How One nanosecond later Could have altered The hit and run: The animal sacrifice To asphalt. The matted bloodied tail Swaying back And forth Feigning life As the wind breathed What death suffocated. © 1997, Dawn E. Powell