butterscotch raze she isn't a constant presence. sometimes i'll go weeks without seeing her. but something told me she'd be out on a day no one else wanted a thing to do with, when the wind was moving faster than she could even if her life was on the line. i walked past her usual spot, doubled back just to be sure, and there she was. she has such a remarkable little face. there's a large birthmark above her nose, and then a smaller dark patch on her forehead, closer to her left eye than the right. she always looks like she's turning something serious over in her mind. she's never come running to me the way most of the other squirrels do. yesterday she flipped the script and met me in four different parts of the park. i needed to grab a hat to keep my ears from turning to ice. she followed me to the car. when i was back on the path, she was still scanning the street for anything that might have fallen out of one of my pockets. i called to her through the gate. "butterscotch. come back in here where it's safe." she listened. and i watched her eat at my feet, with all the gorgeous grey of her body billowing in the eye of a small-scale hurricane not quite fierce enough to topple either one of us. 220401 what's it to you? who go blather from