this morning, several of them in their
modest brown coats, a few in black
and white, demanding as usual.
I was looking for the NYT to settle
in close to the radiator, drink a coffee,
watch the birds at the feeder.
The thugs at the front door demanded
that another task be completed first.
I pulled on my boots and trudged
through newly fallen snow to the
bird feeder, under many watchful
beady eyes.
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