This evening, on the balcony overlooking the village
Of Santa Capito de Monteligne, he can hear
Several dogs competing with a tree frog;
The frog is winning
Tomorrow morning at seven eighteen
Before the rest of the family have broken his peace
From the balcony he will watch as a Jay
Unfolding and folding its crest, hops
Among the shrubbery by the red shed
Pausing, twisting, this way, that, its head searching
Looking and listening he will see the Jay,
With a single flap of its wings, leap and land
A bright green tree frog dangling in its beak
Impressed, enlightened, but with a hint of fear
Mid a chorus of barking he will wonder
At the political power of dogs
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