20150702 (animal house)

The attic is no place for birds

Nor the second floor for squirrels

But until the damaged soffits are repaired

We’ll have a noisy visitor or two

No surprise then when I found a dead

Robin wedged between my ex’s sewing magazines

Poor baby must have exhausted himself 

Looking for an escape hatch

Leaking box gutters Yankee gutters

Where the rains drained to collectors

Beneath the eaves over years the wood

Below absorbed what didn’t flow away

Rotted from periodic drenching 

Entrances appeared where branches

Of my neighbor’s tree tempted 

Birds and squirrels eager to nest

Once they’ve scouted the land nearby

Explorer types set out to find what might be

Behind the insulation

A Columbus or two discovered a world

As dazzling as Columbus found

Thought to make it his own

Untold perches from which to spring

Boxes galore some sealed only for a moment

To a pecking beak or scratching claw

Then treasure more than any 

Bird or squirrel could conceive

Glorious fabrics art supplies rocks

Camera filters colored chalks and data

Records of every type letters bills

Unopened mail floppy disks rewriteable CDs 

Padding fake fur damask satins tripods

Safelights photographs cups filled with

Pencils pens small rulers clips to clamp

Every course in college notebooks

Ribbons needles pins enough to stock

A sewing shop through summer books

Newspapers address lists a misplaced check

Postage stamps forgotten but unlicked

Some first issues of peel and stick

In short a cornucopia of which 

The flock or scurry must be informed

Astonished by their findings 

They could not recall the path back

Flew or scrambled about

Birds knocking themselves on the window glass

Squirrels were puzzled too

I’d hear this ruckus and think what the hell

Has gotten into the cat to topple boxes

Crash piles of buttons across the floor

The crow cawed and was easy to find

Closed the doors opened the window

With a broom as a guide he fluttered about

But during church that Sunday he must have left 

On his own fulfilling two prayers

The squirrel was a tougher nut to crack

Once I opened the window he scooted across the floor  

Leapt at the open space 

His forepaws and legs outstretched

Like Supersquirrel flying to discover 

It was from a second floor that he ventured

And he had before him a brick patio

Not a soft branch and alas 

He was not a flying squirrel 

If it killed him I found no body 

Or bloodied spot

I’ve said before I’m no Francis

To invite birds to rest on my arms

Squirrels can be rabid 

They’re unwelcome and though

I’ve never turned them away at the door

Like Jehovah’s Witnesses they keep coming back

Believe me I’m eager to seal up these holes

But if I have to rely on a contractor’s promise

For the short term I may as well

Sue Mother Nature and make peace

With the animal world

c. J.S.Manista, 2015