The Same Mistake
When the chipmunks from Mr. Robinson's first stashed their food under my oak tree, I began to dream in chipmunk. While basking in a dirt bath I'd gaze up at the feather lines in a bluebird's wingspan and salivate over little bluebird eggs. Soon I added mushrooms to the cache of nuts, feeling the kinship of family.
I caught Miranda's cat nosing where the dirt was freshly packed and startled it away by throwing the redheaded Barbie doll I found in the alley.
Although unsure of the rules of engagement in the animal kingdom, I'm well aware of those in my own, and digging up someone's treasure just because you can is definitely breaking one of the weighty rules.
I thought about Miranda and David and their upcoming wedding, about how if she didn't know me they would never have met. They may be the better match, red may be David's favorite color, like Miranda's hair, but he was in my bed when she found him.
Miranda didn't waste much time after that before she nosed around my treasure and look what happened. I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
Linked to Poetry Pantry #117 @ Poets United</a>