Confined Watcher

Sunrise, what you bring to light,
As you touch bare limbs and grasses
And fluff of goldenrod, now white,
Under screen of brush, what passes?

A movement there, what do I see
Among low brush, it weaves.
Then I see them, one, two, three,
Turkey hens scratch in the leaves,

Then more, and then the bearded Tom,
Light touching bronze wing"s edge.
All this revealed in morning"s calm,
Through nature"s lacy hedge.

A flap of wings and necks all craned,
They turn and gaze with ease,
Look, from foraging detained,
From outside, each turkey sees.

They contemplate the denizen,
Behind the window"s "jail"
And think with haughty confidence,
“How unprepared and frail,

You humans with no feathers warm
Must cover up with raiment
Or stay inside, avoid the storm,
And for fuel make the payment.”

Spent goldenrods wave lazily;
The entourage moves on.
Tomorrow"s sun will hazily
See them elsewhere at dawn.

Upon the fence, beyond the brush,
How spryly squirrels play tag.
Tails flipping sassily, they rush:
A merry zig and zag.

Squirrels no worry ever heed,
No thought of clothes or shelter.
God providing for each need,
They frolic helter-skelter.

Bird or beast without a care
Live life free and cheerier,
While you and I plan and prepare,
They think our way inferior.