An Early Evening Visitor

An Early Evening Visitor
June 1, 2005

Beneath bracken fern he pauses,
listening for signs of pursuit.
Hearing none, he turns
and examines me.
You are not a cat, he says,
and if you were, I would not take the time
to speak with you.
It is, of course, the only sensible thing
for a chipmunk to do –
I would not expect him to stand still
and converse so casually with a cat.
I tell him so, and he seems satisfied,
if only for a moment.
And in the next,
he is gone.

Copyright © 2005 Everett Ambrose Warren

Rachel's Clever Clover Confetti

Rachel's Clever Clover Confetti
June 1, 2005

Like torches,
white fire-light,
held above the fields.
No motion, though,
as the armies have fled,
returned to their hives
before the sun began to fade.
My daughter finds a new use
for the flowers of clover,
picking each one,
collecting a handful.
Into the air,
she throws her confetti,
smiling and twirling.
I'm celebrating your birthday,
she says, smiling wide,
arms raised to the sky
as white clover petals
cling to my hair.

Copyright © 2005 Everett Ambrose Warren