The Squirrel
by Jeffrey McDonald

Sitting in the driveway,
presuming the morning true.
THUD from behind me,
a small squirrel missed what it had leapt for.
I caught its aberrant carom off the cement.
Aerial artist, fearless daredevil, crafty nuisance
no longer.
Stunned and grounded, it veered off like a drunk to the nearest bush for cover.
Too familiar.

I went inside,
the day no longer
worth believing in.

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