It’s Bennie’s day to watch for squirrels that try
to steal from trays that catch discarded seed   
below the feeders hung in branches high	
above the deck where songbirds flit and eat.

It’s always Bennie’s day for this – a sport
we didn’t plan for him. We’d planned for us
to watch assorted birds alight and court
and hear them warble, whistle, chirp and fuss

as birds will do. Thus, Bennie’s vigilance 
upon the deck is self-imposed, a quest
he gives himself. He lies, his eyes askance
for squirrels. Yet soon, despite his dogged best

intentions, and while social sparrows cheep
so softly in the leaves, he falls asleep.