Eye Witness Poem by Dianne Feaver

deliberately forget to fill the bird-feeder.
Instead, I become the sole witness,
to you faithfully scooping black seed
into the old log container, placing back
its comical cone hat, just so,
all the while talking to the cat
who waits on the porch anticipating
the delightful moments your comittment brings
It is the two of you, I see,
and the cycle I cannot - nor should - stop,
animal to animal, working on
in domestic symbiosis, I witness
two hunters at home in a blind
one dedicated decoy, one willing weapon.