Clothes Make the Man
The weekend is almost over.
It is cloudy, mid-afternoon
and the laundry in the dryer
is soon to be ready
for Monday morning.
Outside, a squirrel grips
with its hind paws a snowy
branch of the juniper bush
while with its front paws it pulls
the wire mesh of the swinging bird feeder.
It chews and hangs suspended between
before dashing down the branch.
Some birds return, though none I could name.
Where is a blue jay, or cardinal?
My clothes are still wet and,
for now, it is warm to stand by the dryer.