A Thought

What is it? An observation? A meditation? I don't think it's a poem, but it doesn't really have the structure of a proper story either.
I call it:
The Thief

Today the wind sounds like a gentle ocean or the echo in a shell.
Spruce branches wave their shadows up and back across the wall.
For a moment everything goes still and silent
Then the dancing begins again.

Two days ago I closed up early
The sun, setting across the lake shone brightly through
And the silhouette of a squirrel danced across the curtain folds.
What a fun little acrobat, tirelessly performing and
Quite unaware that the agile leaps towards our garden should be so admired.
You’ve well earned your dinner little friend,
Come back again soon.