Visitations
by Gary Hardaway
The cottontails stop by in the dark early morning
to graze the lawn beneath the artificial light.
They've grown accustomed to the smoking man
on the small patio and don't scamper away.
They never visit when the sun is out, afraid of light
bright enough to show them clearly.
The squirrels love the sun
and scamper after acorns someone buried.
They, too, have grown accustomed to
the smoking man, the small patio, and swing
their fluffed up tails across the grass and weeds,
unafraid, unless the man stands beside the patch
of fence, in full view, and just a little too close.
Bunnies and squirrels, they don't give a big cahoot about our trivial concerns. And I heard the X-Files theme cue up with "the smoking man."
Something's wrong with the fave button. At least you got three from me, if you ignore the minus sign, which I've not seen before.
At least I've gotten rid of one of the negatives. Looks like we're stuck with two. You do something to piss off Jürgen?
I remember this phenomenon. One of the Fictionaut mysteries. Thanks anyway, Matt.
Nice one, Gary.
A fave from me, Gary.
Thank you, Erika. The deficit shrinks!
Lovely visitors. *
A little too close for comfort. I believe we all know that.*
Thank you, Beate.
Thank you, Tim.
Nice!
Than you, Dianne.