It is a tiny, delicate thing,

barely discernable amid

the detritus of the forest floor.

 

It scurries about in short,

purposeful darts, pausing briefly,

ears atwitch for the slightest alarm,

before continuing on its way.

 

A solitary stalk draws its attention,

so slender as to tremble even

at such an insubstantial weight

as it scrambles upward toward

a cluster of opened seed pods.

 

But they are empty, and it turns,

effortlessly, disappointed,

and all too keenly alert in this

exposed, precarious position.

 

Descending rapidly to earth,

it scampers in to the shadows

and is lost from sight once more.