wooden squirrel moves

supine squirrel stretched out on his belly
on the fence top, so relaxed i thought him dead,
so unmoving unblinking distantly withdrawn
i watched from the kitchen window
concerned, as i had been earlier yesterday,
about shattered glass on the dance floor
where someone's daughter writhes and wiggles for cash
sure it was swept but unmopped
sure the cherry tree bounty had just filled the squirrel
with sugar nap sap and the sun was morning kind
until i opened the door to revive or bury
stuck on trying to remember where i left my past,
how it was built, who paid for it and where the photos dwell,
with a start
frisky fellow's eye widens, the torso lifts from full lazy splendor
june cherries above made scarce by crow, bluejay,
setting the posts, having dug the places along where
i ran strings, finding an enevlope with
receipt for a mustang stud colt, and from the american
kennel club with tundra and klondike's sire and dame
she rolled down a hill to feed the land
he  in flames slow became the shadow of soil
what a belly, this squirrel full of hops, afraid
 no cat may launch attack the drowse
permeated fence cap, squirrel and wood, one
not parched of peace or value laden
shredding hour's squirrel both alive dead dormant& active,
entangled in a toothpick, lodged deep in wood trees.