Cactus Wren
He screams at the cat,
asleep in a patch of garden light,
and dives toward the bowl
of dry, brown stars,
like playing jacks in the beak.
I watch his mate
light on the fence as backup,
raise and lower
the lever of her tail
and screech for more chow.
My wren flies away to his yucca
home to peck at dinner
and wait for the one
who barely gets away with her share.