Red-winged blackbirds fright fly in formation
as scarlet-headed house finches
cock their heads to get a bird’s eye view
of the person standing in the window
as she stands everyday.
Nothing to fear
like juncos feeding on the ground
wary of the gray cat who occasionally stalks
with red tongue licking between
gleaming white fangs;
black eyes wide around the corner
charging like silly blackbirds
who heard a seed drop
like the click of a feline claw on gravel.
Diane Webster's challenge is to remain open to poetry opportunities and to write what she sees whether by walking across the parking lot or watching the hawk scowl from its tree. Her work has appeared in “Illya’s Honey,” “The Cape Rock” and other literary magazines.
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