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  • It's easy to be mesmerized.

    To get carried away. To read something into it all. To Think Big Thoughts.
  • Especially when the glitterati arrive, the stunners, the ones who beckon from some other world.
  • It's so damn thrilling that I race around to show everyone, anyone -- Look look look!

    I'm so pleased with myself that I almost miss Trickster One bounding around and around and around just out the window until finally I pull out of the thrall to say okay okay and watch like a mother or something as he buries an acorn in the lawn, digs another up, buries it, digs yet another up and then shows me how to eat it.

    Good to know. If I had your teeth. A+ in winter prep. And yes, I get that you already ate through the garden and so now you are eating through the woods and storing it all in the lawn.
  • I smile as he heads off to other pursuits. I can't help but admire him. All that energy and focus. I could use some of both.

    And then the plot twists as it usually does but not how it usually does with a sudden bloody turn as Hawk or Bobcat or Fisher streaks out of nowhere to catch Bushy-tail mid-stride right there in front of me and turn him into dinner. I have to admit that when it ends that way, I am sorry, yes, but only for a moment. After all, he's the varmint who ate all the strawberries. And yes, all the beets. And most of the tomatoes. And this isn't for show. It's for keeps.

    But this story fools me altogether
    when Trickster Two shows up

    to mess with Trickster One, just to mess with him, I'm tempted to think

    as he steals Trickster One's treasures, one after another, and buries them different spots. Piracy on the lawn.
  • Oh, I want to read something into this. Extrapolate. Read the human here. Reach for poetry.

    But the crows are announcing a big kerfluffle in the oaks just beyond the barn
    and so there's nothing to do but to strip away artifice and imagining and smugness and

    head out to fool the deer from the kale
    the bunnies from the carrots
    the mice from the root cellar
    the chickadees from the sunflowers
    the crows from, well, everywhere

    as they try to distract me
    and one another

    in the mad dash before Winter.
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