Out of the corner of my eye
I see him scurry across the fence;
a bully who has artfully eased
his predecessors off the patch.

His movement’s confident and cocky,
the urban swagger of one who knows
he’s reached the top of his ‘profession’.
He is the top cat, guvnor, kingpin.

Over his shoulder hangs no weapon
but a bushy tail, his bling,
or status symbol signifying
that he is not too be messed with.

One moment he’s there and then he’s not.
I turn to look but he has vanished,
disarmingly slipped out of my sight.
I scan my surroundings nervously.

It’s not just him that’s disappeared,
it is his stash, ill-gotten gains,
the product of extortion, never
to be seen again till next year.

Somewhere he’s counting out his nuts
stacking then in their ordered piles,
a display intended to underline
that he’s in charge and no one else.

I was sitting this evening wondering what to write about today when I spotted our neighborhood squirrel on the fence…
(02.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Lucia Sorrentino on Unsplash