Buffet

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Each night I choose to freeze looking down

Under the barren Japanese Maple vacantly perusing

The gathered buffet of the dried crusted unwanted

Scraps for the apex predators of the night

The dusted and compacted muddle of dirt and grass

And bird shit succumb to the overwhelming smell

Of bagels and berries for wet nostrils and wisping tails

The echoing glass is smeared, stripping

The natural oils of my tipped up nose

Each time I smudge it against, the urge to adjust

My millions of rods and cones overcomes

The comfort of insulating fluorescents

The large muted orange mother sheltering

The curiosity of a kit’s first winter

Unaware and only on alert once the tip of my

Nail taps the window pane, we stare

We scatter away

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