To the two brown rats
that frequent our new birdhouse,
the one atop the oak stump
outside our window:
I suppose you have to eat
and seeds make a fine meal.
I’m okay with you feeding there.
But let me say I don’t want you
playing house in our wood pile.
We are not a vermin hotel.
I understand the importance of diversity,
the value each creature brings,
whether I like it or not.
I’ll share with you
as long as you stay outside.
You’re on your own with the cats.
Frank Babcock lives in Corvallis, Oregon and is a retired Albany middle school teacher and owner of a bamboo nursery. He writes poetry to share the strange thoughts that rattle around in his head and to get them off his mind. He started with an interest in the beatnik poets, Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg. He has a long way to go and much to write before he sleeps.