I dwell beneath some trees, so I have shade
but also droppings from the limb and leaf.
Accustomed to the messes birds have made
and squirrels squirt, I don’t feel any grief,
but twinges of annoyance can invade
my peace. What’s sap or shit is now the chief
offense to mar the redwood deck I love.
Of late I think I’m bombed by crows above.