meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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feathered friends


I can hear them
talking

yup they're waiting
for me

squawking
for the official
feedbag.

The little guy
the fuzzy one
with the wide red
gaping mouth.

I feel for him.
no he makes me feel.
his youth and inexperience.
the singular white feather
on his back.
I hope he makes it.
it takes a lot these days.
even for those of us with
experience.

what will be the menu
today?
day old cat food and moldy grapes?
the apartment manager
hawk-eyes me from her
second story perch with
suspicion.

she's feeding the
animals again.
weirdo.
who's the real weirdo?
the upstairs monitor lizard?
or me?

I'm enjoying this family.
they have taken on a kind
of acceptance of me.
they literally recognize me
as non-foe or even better
someone or something good.
that's not bad
not bad at all.
I'll take that any day
of the week.

people seem a whole
lot less capable
of the continuum of
discernment sometimes.

I prefer the cautious
approach, the wait n see game.
I have passed some kind
of test.
a wild animal test.
that is just plain grand.


Meloo/Melissa A Howells from her Tilt-a-World
Copyright August 6 2014
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Author retains all legal rights to
her poetry, stories, ideas, rants






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