Interloper Poem by Michele C. Messina Long

Interloper



I’ve perched, stoic and static
Watchful for the sparrows to fly in to feast.
Should I make a move, They’d scatter in an instant
They don’t know I’m the one feeding them.
Nor does their survival system fathom the definition of trust.
Today they finally allow themselves to dine
While I observe.

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