Squirrel sits on the edge of the forest,
conflicted where the trees have gone.
Unknowing that the world is culling.

Somewhere often it knows the forest grows,
and sometimes, teetering the edge of the village it goes.

The light balance of the shrubs all around
does not correspond to his homeward ground.


Squirrel wanders a vacant field,
listening for the bird's songs.

He does not hear, or look, or react,
he walks until he stops to relax.

Then in the light of the field he sees
something that he can't believe.

A great and roaring star, falling from the heavens
to the world underneath him that cries and writhes.

He wonders what the light means, as it disperses across
the field, hearing the screech and the tumbling on the asphalt.

The ground collapses in several places as it flips into the field.

He walks over to the metal body in the dirt, stretching his
legs along the way to be ready to run.

But there is no danger, just suspicious little bumps of dirt,
and big metal pieces he doesn't understand.

His eyes carry on, peaceful and serene; examining everything.
Just trying to make sense of the wonder before him.

Community gone- to the life after, it
crinkles all the flowers in the darkness.

The bright red and orange lights flicker down the street.
The bipeds hustle to the husk before the heat consumes it.

Flipped on an axis, as squirrel looks on
a loud piercing call comes from the ground,
so away the squirrel rolls into the brush in fear.