I saw two hummingbirds beneath the crows
that visited, the bold above the shy.
The corvids sat the looming tree, in rows
of roosting gossip, as trochilidae
sought nectar from the blossoms in the yard
(the nicotiniana over sage).
The crows resembled sentinels, on guard
against the neighbor’s cat that needs a cage.

He’s called a housecat, but he shits outside,
and never digs to cover up his turds.
He sneaks around what obstacles I’ve tried;
he’s fed from cans but toys with dying birds.
I never like to spot the gray-striped cat.
I wonder if the crows can help with that…