There Are Days
       

I do nothing but watch the birds
flit around the feeder,

yesterday's titmouse
a pile of feathers

        dainty
                intimate

preened to the bone
by the cat skulking in the shrub.

        The hawk on a fence post
        shrills regrets.

Who can you trust?
I duck at the flicker's rat-a-tat-tat.

Sooner not later

        watchful or not

we're exposed

day swooping down with a cold eye,
its merciless appetite
preferring us raw.

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Copyright © 2015 Julie Suk All rights reserved
from Cimarron Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission