The early morning hours dripped with the heaviness of the atmosphere,
the pseudo breeze simply stirred the stagnant oppression of the air.
On the rose-colored patio blocks just within the edge of overhanging shadows
the furry gray squirrel sprawled out basking with all fours and tail stretched
to the limits of his tiny body panting in the anxious desire of relief.
Though I tapped the glass door he contemplated me reluctantly
yet did not move his position and then he stood up, ruffled his plump feathery tail and slowly tiptoed toward the garden. He slipped in and out the greenery until he found the spot, a small patch of dirt untouched by growth. He scratched and scratched again, then it appeared he had collapsed yet remained alert and awake, He rolled left then right, bringing his hind legs up as if in a fetal position and he kicked and rolled and rolled again until the dirt rose in cloudy puffs.
Then it last he stilled, relaxed and cooled, he lay calm and refreshed for a moment then two then three, ready to take on the day.
Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2019