She liked watching the birds at her birdfeeder
Fluttering about the feeder seeking seeds
Until rogue squirrels scared the birds away
And ate all the birdseed and angered her.
Half crazy from the get go, she screamed
And charged the marauding squirrels,
Tripped and fell on her angry face.
The fall brought her to sane senses.
She bought a squirrel proof bird feeder.
And graciously fed the squirrels corn,
A satisfying compromise for each and all.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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