Like a chickadee in sweat pants she darts and grabs and returns
to the center of the aisle and her cart, her branch.
She scans and checks and her small eyes stretch out to her goal.
She dashes ahead with her plan. She reaches for cookies.
Another presence nearby. She retreats thwarted, heart pounding,
FAT as a loud clap in her ears, or as a sprinting cat
towards her feeder. One threat gone, she scans indecisive,
makes a flutter towards it, returns, goes, snatches,
then with a fast slow weave, flies out of my sight.