I get a little lost: I don’t know where to locate the falcon and the the steel bucket — they’re too vivid to just be bits of the narrator’s imagination of squirrel consciousness, which is what I cautiously take to be the baseline here. Or maybe they’re not. I don’t know.

…And as
the utmost treasure sang its drone note
into the palm, to feel the fever leave.

those are my favorite lines: I think of the Buddhist characterization of the animal “realm” as one of nearly constant, obsessive wanting.

I have a feeling that this is one of your very best poems, and that I’m being needlessly obtuse :-)