LOOK OUT FOR THAT TREE
After a long day of swinging among the trees,
I holed up in my reconfigured den for the duration.
No one worth their weight in salt dared to disturb me
or the cats positioned near the bedroom window.
The cats would give me sign if anyone ventured onto my porch.
In the jungle, I have been a George who looks out
for any danger real or imagined.
A storm has put me in full retreat.
Cats have taken cover and left no forwarding address.
Maybe by nightfall, I can gather the troops
and put my Pasadena life back in order.
With fingers crossed, I dress for another jungle sweep.
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