I like to see

Your flicking tail,

And hear your chatter

When I fail

To chase you from

My property.

Fearless, carefree,

Mockingly,

You scurry up or down a tree,

Or in the feeder, or

On the ground

Eating seeds the birds

Have missed—

And I don’t mind–

Not seriously–

To look and see

You doing this.

I only wish

You wouldn’t be

In my garden quite

So frequently.

My spinach is gone, and

Lettuce, mostly;

Some of these days

I admit I’d rather

Look outside

Where you used to gather

And see you ghostly.

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