The wind moaned through leaning pines, and sideways snow crusted over a landscape already draped in invisibly layered ice. The air sharp and breath-taking bowed swaying branches fighting to keep the leaves of Summer. A hunched gray squirrel perched in the cold clinging tightly to one high branch. What brought this daring venturer out on a day when he should be in a long deep rest, curled within the warmth nest made for a long Winter? Was it to shred one last pinecone or a dare from his ne’er do well neighbor bent on thieving a hidden Winter bounty?
Written to the prompt, “perched” from Velvet Verbosity and a bonus, “Little Lies” by Fleetwood Mac.
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