I patter, they chatter

by Brianna G. Harte

Nibbling on an acorn beside a tree,

I watch the humans walk around noisily.

They chatter and rant

as though it shall grant

peace to their minds

or quiet, needed finds.

Dare they approach me

in the time I am free

from long hours spent wandering

the ground for food and not pondering

my small body shall patter,

hopes of the day’s gathering will shatter.

Fret I do not

for I am not sought;

their focus on life leads them away,

forgetting what in the grass may lay.

How curious they may be

when sitting beneath a thin tree

they would just stare into the distance

and the threat I do not feel obliterates resistance.

Let me gather what I may

and I shall let you stay,

watching me leap into trees,

and allowing me to act as I please.

Copyright © 2015 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.



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