They Know Us

There they are in their plentiful
numbers, maniacally ripping through
the fall landscape in a frenzy of
survival. Their instinct to gather
and store, nibble and prepare for
winter now in full gear, they compete
and scold; small furred creatures
of the forest. They know us.

They are aware that when we enter
their precinct we leave behind, in
long-held designated places, items
they hold in high regard. The greys
are the brightest, waiting for us to
single them out and send a peanut
directly their way for instant play
in the game of search-and-retrieval.

The tiny reds, the most fiercely
combative, they harry, scold, worry
and ceaselessly chase the much larger
greys and the hapless blacks. As well
as those of their own tribe. They are
electric-swift, swallowing ground
under their amazingly talented feet.

The blacks are sleekly furred, given
to audacious teasing; lacking however,
the fearless energy of the reds and the
existential intelligence of the greys.
The blacks display timidity and their
very special brand of bland stupidity.
Generalizing, I know. Not meaning to
criticize, merely remarking, you see.