Saturday morning, after a largely sleepless night, I watched, as sunlight set the top of one of the 70’ water oak trees, in my backyard, alight with glorious gold. Squirrels began to awaken, venturing out of the safety of their nests, to frolic together, with total abandon; taking turns chasing one another, up one branch, then, down another; flicking their bushy tails, teasing one another, in fun. The tree was alive with activity.
Gradually, as more of the upper reaches of the huge tree lit up in fiery gold, one-by-one, the playmates sailed across gaps of over a dozen feet, to the next tree in line, in the grove that borders my house, doing their best imitation of flying squirrels.
Finally, the tree fell completely still and silent, totally aglow, in the early morning sunrise. The stark contrast, between the happy frenzy of earlier activity, and the current stillness felt, somehow, empty… abandoned… quietly mirroring my own mood. So, I crawled into bed, and went to sleep.
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