source:  internet

The old woman who lives next door is mad.

What’s driving her nuts

are the hungry squirrels

who live beyond her backyard gait.

They eat, and eat, and eat, the precious fruit

that grows on her trees.

They’re vexing her ease

and slowly stealing her reason.

I’ve observed her early unhinged mornings

frantically waving

a rattling rake

“Get out!” Get out!” as if they cared.

I have gaped through the fence and seen her eat

tennis-ball sized

green and unripe

melons so rodents would starve.

In the end it was poison that did them in,

though they kicked and twitched

and put up a fight.

Her garden’s gone still and quiet.

Nowadays she’s seen on her back porch swing

on hot summer days

enjoying her yield

with a smirk on her face, spitting pits.

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