Striped brown chipmunk scrabbled into food pantry—
Bully cat Willie chased him through the door.
Once the thing settled amid canned bottles
Of pickles, jams and jellies, wee tin cans,
Neither my dog nor three cats cared a whit.
Not every house can boast chipmunk lodgers,
Yet since this winter has been so tender,
I’ll retire to meditate in wonder.
I pillow-muse whether I might then post
A curt eviction note on a sauce can.
Searching through those jars would be a nightmare….
I’ll let him stay snug through February,
Then thrash him out with wooden cooking spoon,
Escorting him with handfuls of small stone.