Brooke's Sedation

My eyes narrow watching a lone squirrel perch on a twisted decaying branch. Sounds of distant nature grow silent as if to hold its breath so to watch. Muscles in my arms flex in anticipation of pulling the bow string back. With conclusive tail spasms, the cautious tree dweller sheds its defense to gnaw at something grasped in its paws. Its glossy eyes reflect the moody autumn skies above, below, its brown fur flows uniformly down its body.

The branch beneath it fades from our existence, the clouds in its eyes dissipate into nothingness. I take aim. My heart beats in time with the creature as do my lungs breathe its breath. We are as one. Flung is the arrow, with it trails life around it back into my world. The ground beneath me reaffirms its place in existence as my eyes explode in wonderment watching the arrow escape its intended fate. The squirrel severse its connection with me in two swift bounds through the branches.

"Mama!"

My arms fall in defeat as do I into mama's gentle hold.

"Nearly there."

Mama's voice is like a comb through tangled hair. She pulls away from embrace to caress my numbing cheek, her eyes are like wells of golden maple sap. Mama pinches my nose playfully,

"You're only getting better."