Intermission

Intermission

She adores their little game of chase
Admiring the "kuk-kuk-kuk" sound,
As if to say "cook, cook, COOK"
She wonders in amazement at them,
Scurrying in flower pots
rooting for their prize
Leaving tiny paw prints
that form side-by-side exclamation points (!!)
in icy snow drifts set upon the soil.
Searching the earth's hidden grocery stores,
often coming up empty handed

Little brown heads crook
toward the window goddess.
From there,
it is where harvest comes.

Movement abounds
and like tiny little acrobats
they scamper along the railing
jumping to the crab-apple tree
that overhangs the balcony
poising their fragile bodies
in prayer like some ceremonial
trance.

Bushy tails wave flags of surrender.

She adores their little game of chase,
But she...
She prefers the intermission.