The Squirrel and The Hawk

Dogs snuggled at my feet,
sun rising, cozy in my bed.

Trees reaching for the light,
squirrels making their home in my flower-pot;
digging up roots I painstakingly planted.

Fury pulses through my veins while the moment before I was peaceful, calm and serene. I reach for my shot-gun but of course I don’t own one.

Blue Jays soaring by competing for the same food. They run back and forth on the deck while the dogs continue sleeping completely oblivious.

A Red Tail Hawk swoops to score the squirrel and flies off.
My eyes open like saucers, National Geographic before my very eyes; contentment once again found.

Now I know how an eye for an eye was born, and why I’ve never gotten any cherries.
I am grateful for the farmers and their painstaking labor of working the fields and I vow to let the animals roam freely and forget this foolishness that I will ever bear fruit or arms.

Except for those that hug.



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