You don’t really see me,

Sitting on my nest

In the dead Juniper tree.

Protecting my almost fully feathered


Nor do you see my mate,

Hidden as he is on the branch behind me.

Still as a statue,

Standing guard,

Wondering if you are here to hurt us.

You don’t really see us.

Why not leave us alone?

There are a few drops of wine in your glass.

Finish them.

Then take one more picture.

For come morning,

We might have taken flight.

Or we can play this game all night.