JOOLES WHITEHEAD

Squirrel Song

Tangled webs flow with steady silence, a reassuring melody to the ears of prey. Nimble bodies of irreverent red play games of musical statues – scampering feet waltz along these woven threads, darting artfully across pools of air. A rustle halts the melody –an unnatural chord puts an end to the silence.

This rustle stops the slinking squirrels, it petrifies them.

Now, a cluster of intricately carved statues perch atop the wooden web.

Soon, the dissonant chord vanishes and so the artistic stone dissolves back into a warm bustle of sleek scampering.

Except one has not. One is cold. One has fallen into the simple trap of dissonance.