Who are these creatures who come to my door?
They’re scared but they can’t hide their need to explore.
I see where they trod from the print of their paw,
but when I go out, they’re not there any more.
Some leave little titbits,
like nuts in the night,
safe hit ‘n run gestures,
the frightened polite.
Scurrying off with their tummies tucked tight,
the duckling is chuckling in furtive delight.
Hey! Come back! Introduce yourself!
It’s lonely down here on the bottom shelf!
They say that seclusion is bad for your health.
I ought to be grateful but sometimes it’s weird,
I stand in the hallway and play with my beard.
For why are these animals so damned afeared?
I try to ignore it and live with the strange,
fulfilling my half of this pious exchange,
imagining creatures just out of my range.