Fleeing the Scene

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 Fleeing the Scene


The wind’s not blowing

But someone is making it seem so

Someone flittering in the flowers

The greens jittering in their pot

Right outside my wall of windows

I stand in the window to see who that someone is

Though I have a suspicion

That same someone, never before seen, 

Who digs in our front flower pot, uprooting them

Who is that mischievous one?

He pops his head out of the greenery

A chipmunk finally caught in the act

He sees me towering over him

He scoots

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