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The Theft



The sleek chipmunk explored my yard

pursuing his main occupation,

a wary search for food.  

I tossed

sunflowers seeds to him, 

he scurried off in quick alarm.  

Later from a window 

I watched him gather them

for his secret hoard.  

I fed him daily;

less fearful, he did not run away.

In time he came to hand, placed his

tiny paws on my fingers, took

the offering.  

I derived strange

pleasure in my vanity, 

his surrender.

Careless, robbed of his one defense,

natural fear of man, he approached

a young stranger who casually

killed with a thoughtless blow.

I gave quick burial to the whole

sad package, hiding in the patient

earth the hapless victim, honest

misdeed, and my sly thievery.


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