about a squirrel and its morning run.

Today's story takes place at tree top level.  By a roof.  Outside my window.  And the telephone and other wires that criss-cross said spaces.  An hour or so after dawn's first light.  And the sprinting, pause, sprinting squirrel who crosses my full range of vision on the wire, expanding and contracting like an asthmatic worm.  Squirrel came, I saw, squirrel won.  Beginning, middle, end.