Inventory

startled today:

one large green and tan frog

with dark slit golden eyes;

one 'hairy' woodpecker,

an unflattering name for his

red-capped, black-and-white feathered finery;

one yellow-and-black-striped ground bee perusing one of many

triangular gaps in the outward tilted stonewall;

one unseen snake ripping fast

through dry grass underlying new green blades;

one parental tree swallow, again disturbed daily

and glaring from the glass-free garage window;

multitudinous miniature spiderlings,

round, reddish brown, dozing in dead pansy blooms,

whipped frantic by my prying, green-thumbed hands;

one bustling ant community

busily farming aphids on the alders

near the pond policed by speeding dragonflies

who are, in turn, startled too late to save themselves

from hungry leaping fish . . .

by that standard, I am a harmless intrusion

in my natural neighborhood.