The pole that holds the bird feeder
would not have been stuck into the hillock
behind this house, nor the birdbath
bought and filled. So the jays
would have flown by,
far overhead, never squawking
about some paradise sprung up below.
When snowdrifts shortened the distance
to the feeder by a good two feet,
the squirrels learned it was possible
to achieve nourishing bliss.
They have not forgotten the lesson
though the snow has melted
and they leap, impossibly high, to devour.
This discovery of their potential
would not have been made,
a loss to squirrels everywhere.
Who says I don’t matter.