Familiar

There’s this little squirrel that runs back and forth across the powerlines outside my window. All day, back and forth. His tail, damaged, short and sparse. And I wonder if it’s due to the track he takes, an electrical event which has robbed him of his plume. But there he goes again, sure-footed along a dangerous line, a high-wire act that leaves me speechless. Why not abandon the familiar and take to the trees, little guy? The sting and singe he’s known somehow safer than reaching out for the nearby, unknown branch.