Fast-footed twitcher of nervous tics
Short-armed dancer of the day
Housed among the boughs and sticks
And leaves of autumns sad decay
As nimble shadows fall
To spring full-cheeked in big-eyed start
Upon my garden wall.
Not being European I,
Watch laughing at your selfish glut,
While you peer back with greedy eye,
And steal another nut.
If you've any comments on
this poem, Karin
Cox would be pleased to hear from you.