His curly head bobs
side to side, while little hands
clap in cheerful cadence.

Laughter tinkles,
a highlight to the birdsong
that glides from the boxwood hedge.

Intent on his small treasure,
the boy fails to notice the robin
who waits with greedy anticipation.

Even the fat tabby’s tease
and fuzzy leg rub
cannot tempt desertion of the prize.

Mom’s oatmeal cookie, his favorite,
gained through insistent pleas,
sits in forgotten crumbles on the step.

The boy giggles again
as the earthworm wiggles
at the touch of his tiny finger.