We have four humans that frequent our field.
They’re not necessarily wanted.
They build barriers; they put up fences; they leave shavings of some sort around our favorite flowers.
We have four humans that keep barging in.
They charge out of the door without warning; they tromp across the deck; they leave balls and other bizarre objects strewn across the field.
We have four humans that have decided they own the place.
They startle us at all hours; they disrupt the peace; they take over for hours on end.
These humans have been here as long as we can remember, though there are days we don’t see them at all. Those are the days we soak up the field as long as we can.
Because we know they’ll be back.
They always come back.
Their favorite spot is on the other side of the glass square. I’m certain they’ve chosen it because they can watch us closely. Lucky for us, they’re close enough to observe, but somehow unable to reach through and catch us.
We’ve passed a quiet winter without them in our burrow. I honestly almost forgot about our humans. I truly imagined they might have moved on and the field might be ours again this summer.
Sitting between the bushes and the fence, I looked up. And there they were. Four humans. Standing on the other side of the glass square. Looking at me.
We have four humans who never left.
Once again, they frequent our field; they keep barging in; they’ve decided they own the place.
We have four humans.