On paths not there

hand in my pocket
looking to my right
sat a squirrel
he was straight
up, standing and eating
his little nut

staring at my feet
strolling on with
shrubs and trees
fixed in place--standing
as sentinels of this
path
(the squirrel is just a soldier)

firmly cut
by no one before
touched by Her hands
out of sight at all
times

removing
my hand from its pocket haven
to check the time to
find out there is
all the time
I could
need