shadow

Cactus Wren

He screams at the cat,

asleep in a patch of garden light,

and dives toward the bowl

of dry, brown stars,

like playing jacks in the beak.

I watch his mate

light on the fence as backup,

raise and lower

the lever of her tail

and screech for more chow.

My wren flies away to his yucca

home to peck at dinner

and wait for the one

who barely gets away with her share.

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