the hawk sits, frozen
still as the one-eyed owl
that watches over the yard
where the squirrel
flits
busy, burying its nuts in the tall flower pots
for cold-weather snacking
on the deck
the hawk moves slightly
nodding its head
as the squirrel darts
jagged, pressing its nails into the oak’s old bark
and climbing for leafy shelter
in the branches
the hawk flies suddenly
stabs its talons
snaps it beak
hungry, disturbs the limbs with its wings,
littering the squirrel’s playground
in a hail of acorns
the squirrel, who saw it coming,
scurries for deep cover
where the leaves are the thickest
and the branches
twist
to
twine,
leaving only a taste of its bushy tail
behind
the one-eyed owl sits on its deck-rail perch,
observant,
and
grins
~
Words and Photography ©2018 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me
Posted in poetry & free verse.
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