Angry
nuthatch
in the maple today.
All Confederate gray
except for that russet shirt
and tiny Zorro mask.
“Yank!” He called, insulted,
as I trudged by,
garbage in hand.
Then he was gone,
in the brambles
of a barren
spirea.

loud now but fading
                 in-&-out,
one big long shhhhhhhhhh
taps of water on leaves                                          (the spirea bush)
as they bend more & more.
big cat in a dark porchcorner
yawning. tired but up she gets
for a quick pat.
porchsitting/my cold bare feet in the night.