Life was easy. We had no enemies
and so he came, moving stealthily.
He travelled at night, marking his
territory.
He pushed against the window easily
and invaded our private sanctuary.
Unsubtle in his vicious attack
he created chaos in the shrubbery.
He withdrew; then he came back
Pummelling with his fists of air
firing his bullets from the trees
he bent back branches like iron bars.
He stripped the willows, boiling
their leaves.
In a crude display of primitive
might -
the old adversary. He came to fight.
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