They tear trash open with no thought of me.
And from the limbs of a tree, chatter away.
Compost bins are necessary now—
But the problem was: How to keep wildlife out?
Green bin makers hatched a plan and a latch was installed.
The bandit on camera, flipped the latch, and dinner was served.

They’re an annoyance and a nuisance, I don’t disagree.
But one early morning when she saw me, she scrambled a foot up a tree.
Her girth wide, stopped her there. She seemed to think, “Well, good enough.”
Then, there were two little ones who attacked our downspout.
I tell myself: They weren’t hunting for lunch.
Just a little mischief, trying to figure things out.

Lately, I don’t always see the comical side of things.
But the bandits’ antics are sometimes a friend.
Except when they left a package on my deck.
I threw my hands up and asked, “Why me?”
Not a peep did I hear. So, I told myself, it’s one time, it’s fine.
But a year later, my defences down, they did it again.

It was quiet for awhile and I have to say—I missed them a little.
When one rainy night a figure on our deck, darted under the cover of our outdoor chair.
The water pooled on the cover and two blobs moved back and forth.
Now, we wondered, “How many are under there?”
A worry crept into my mind they might be trapped and suffocate to death.
So, we lifted the cover with a broom handle, and he sat up human-like with a look of, What did you do that for?
We retreated indoors as his coat dripped. He inched close to the window and seemed to ask, Do you mind if we stay until the rain goes away?
He reclined back and watched us for a few minutes. And then, crept under the cover.
We did what we do—turned the lights off and let them stay for the night.