The Squirrel

So, I’m watching this squirrel
And he shouldn’t be here
He knows it
I know it
But he’ll still persevere.
He’s dreaming of trees
Leaves and branches and such
Of squirrels like him
He’s dreaming of nuts.
He didn’t think there’d be concrete
Didn’t plan for these streets
He never imagined
They would make him complete.
Now I can’t help but watch him
And I know he sees me.
I wonder if he wonders
If I miss the trees.

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Mam Tor in the snow. The first and last route of the year, as a reminder of how far I have travelled.

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