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Cactus Wren

He screams at the cat,

asleep in a patch of garden light,

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and dives toward the bowl

of dry, brown stars,

like playing jacks in the beak.

I watch his mate

light on the fence as backup,

raise and lower

the lever of her tail

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and screech for more chow.

My wren flies away to his yucca

home to peck at dinner

and wait for the one

who barely gets away with her share.

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