It occurs to me
that not all squirrels
are one. And the crushed little creature
we swerved around yesterday as his tail flicked back,
dead, in the wind of a passing truck--
he does not breathe in the body
of this little one looking at me now
as I sit reading by the river.
And his empty spot
on the road this morning
does not mean he's off again
digging his little paws in earth
to stock up for the coming cold.
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