The Red Squirrel

        Five sleek leaps,
        five streaks of russet flame,
        five upward bounds
        of trust into unfamiliar leaves
        on branches bent to rescue,
        no sound,
        no downward glance, no keen relief,
        no regrets yet,
        just the breathless immobility of fear,    
        after the urgent act,
        poised in ecstasy on the top tip
        of sheer exhilaration.
        Oh, intrepid little one, does your heart leap
        does your red blood bound like mine,
        after running such risk,
        after losing your breath,
        after almost losing your life,
        in five fleet beats
        have the flames of our wild hearts entwined?