I’m feeding the squirrels.
I used to believe that I was
Feeding sunflower seeds to the birds,
But not so much anymore.
They usually just wait and watch from a nearby branch
The front row seats, filled with Chickadees, bills gaping seedlessly
No concession snacks for the meek.
I swear that the squirrels used to come disguised:
I liked the blue jay outfit.
The faux feathers, tufted crest
Gaudy like turquoise jewelry, or an Ocean City miniature golf course.
Their bad ass attitude would trick you on a snowy morning.
Now they just put on a gluttony show
Hanging upside down
Legs akimbo, a Kama Sutra of dexterity
They Buddha-belly up all day to the all you can eat for one price table.
Their big dewy eyes hardly flinch
When I run out waving a dish towel and yelling.
Eventually they trot off to a nearby tree and watch, smirking.
Hey, they enjoy a show with their meal too.
And they’ll be back for the second show.