Raccoon Breakfast
By
John I. Blair
How can I ken
Your good sense
My raccoon friend?
You know the time
To show for food
Is dawn, not ten
And seldom fail
To be there then,
Erect to better see
If I’m behind the glass,
Plastic scoop in hand,
Ready to dish out chow.
The feral cats observe,
Waiting for the dance to end,
Waiting to watch
If yet again
You knock the plastic bowl
Across the patio.
© 2025 John I. Blair
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