Fast-footed twitcher of nervous tics
Short-armed dancer of the day
Housed among the boughs and sticks
And leaves of autumn’s sad decay
You dart
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.

Karin Cox

If you've any comments on this poem, Karin Cox would be pleased to hear from you.