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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