Solitary Spectator

The procession of wild turkeys on my lawn,
the wonder and the pleasure I would share,
but I dare not disturb you in the dawn,
when the work of the long day you still must bear

But, oh how sweet to see the birds come forth,
venturing to see if it is there,
the bird seed I put out, while they, still north,
their season in our temperate climate fare.

I'd like to have you see with me the young
Tom turkey try his ability to display,
a brief fanning of his tail, wings shyly flung,
I giggle, "His immaturity has made my day."

The chipmunk, quizzically, around a rock,
checks out the safety of his venture bold,
to appear; a stealthy neighbor cat brings shock,
as she seizes him in an energetic hold.

The resulting dance, were it not so perilous,
displays the grace of feline leap and twist.
A playful kitten? Toying with him like a mouse,
she becomes skilled hunter, executionist.

So, in the early hours my hillside home,
makes me a spectator of life and death,
so beautifully portrayed, but shared with me alone,
not to disturb you with my phone or noisy step