Suddenly startling, yet continuous
For you with the joy of scamper,
You skitter through underbrush
Damp with February.
To me you are lift in a lick of light
Travelling the trunk of an oak,
A denser shadow, furred furrow.
Tree knows your transient tickle,
Stays focused beyond your claw clicks
On her slow hidden
Fostering of foliage,
The suckling of Spring.
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