he sounded like
the piano tinkling
little raindrops
through the falling
leaves- but all
he could hear was her.
So he played on til
the trees were barren
and his fingers fused
with ivory.

He pretended he wasn't there,
When he looked intently at me,
Staying immobile statue-like,
Feinting to be part of the tree;

For several seconds he froze,
No single movement did he make,
The squirrel could have been sculptured,
from wood or clay just like a fake;

Slowly I threw him a walnut,
And suddenly he came alive,
Grabbing the nut and scrambling off,
I had no time to count to five.