Baffled
The squirrels always ate the seed
I’d used to fill the feeder.
They’d shimmy up the pole to follow
One brave soul, the leader.
Whenever I glanced out and saw
A squirrel up there munching,
I’d step outside and stomp my feet,
Which stopped unwelcome lunching.
But in a minute, they’d be back,
With cunning and with daring.
My foot stomps and some yelling
Didn’t seem to do much scaring.
Yet at my son’s today I felt
Like I had won a raffle.
The birds were at the feeder
‘Neath which hung a brand-new baffle.
The squirrels searched the ground below
In hopes of cast-off smidgens,
As baffled by the baffle as
Their world would be to pigeons.
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