It is an insistent sensation
despite its diminutive size:
a tiny woodland creature
determined to haul an
entire tree into its burrow
one tiny fragment at a time.
There’s a methodical urgency
in undertaking this task;
every second in the open
is one in which it could be
devoured. But the instinct
to create the best possible
nest for young to be birthed
in is strong, an irresistible
force. The whole forest is
my soul and the persistent
nagging at the base of one
tall oak is the presence of
all life indwelling me,
asking for a little attention.


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