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Buccaneer of Branches
by Annie Jenkin
Under heavy hanging clouds
a squirrel leaves his drey,
defying gravity, lively and leaping,
somersaults obstacles.
Hunting autumn woodlands
fluffs out his tail
there's a scuffle and scurry
as another scuttles up a tree.
Burying his cache of acorns,
to search for wild mushrooms
held like a ship's wheel
he nibbles around its edges.
In a second, he's statue still
unfurls his curled quill
swishes it from side to side
before dashing away.
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