Hummingbird War

Ants trail up the shepherd’s hook 

under the shade tree 

outside the bedroom window

hypnotized by the scent

of a sugary water concoction

mixed for ruby-reds to fatten up

before their September journey south;

Miso the cat is on look out-

still, paws on the sill

ready to advance on

the needle-nosed morsels, 

who chirp and flutter 

just outside the screen.

At night, all is quiet.

As morning arrives, the blind opens-

Miso jumps to the tower 

to site her target-

the nectar’s brew master,

in horror, sees the feeder 

has become an ant tomb-

sugar bloated bodies float

after a Kamikaze dive of glory.

Rest in peace little ant-scouts, 

bon voyage my tiny, feathered delights-

may your next campaign

avoid any casualties in flight.

 

Storm Warning

On a cold morning
it’s  hard to move
when a warm cat
sits on my lap.

Tired of the open window

and business of monitoring

birds returning

from the Southern sun,

she finds me in repose 

under a blanket

staring at a screen

ignoring things on a list.

She has the right idea-

curl up, purr, nest

to melt into the comfort  

of the small shared space.

Life off of the couch

isn’t safe anymore-

war rages and

a madman leads with impunity.

Better to tuck in,

lean on the memory

of a mostly steady hand

rather than the coming storm.