I don’t know why I was singled out,
being, as I was, simply sitting at my patio table

sipping Earl Gray and scanning AccuWeather
for a hint of whether or not sunshine

would favor next week’s beach trip.
As far as I recall,

I did nothing to attract the jet black eyes
whose stare crept into my consciousness

along with that creepy feeling that comes
when you realize you’re being watched.

Nothing moved –
not the eyes
not the head
not the shoulders –
as if we were on a zoom call
and the computer just froze

until

one foot stepped toward me.
Then the other.

I kept totally still, unsure
what was about to happen.

The next step turned slightly away,
turning toward the computer keyboard.
The following step planted itself

squarely on the flat black keys.

Slowly, the eyes
turned toward the screen and

the bold and friendly mourning dove
joined me in reading the 10-day forecast.

Rebecca K. Leet has spent a lifetime across the Potomac River from Washington, DC, whose beauty she loves but drama she despairs. Writing poetry keeps her sane. And writing a poem that makes others laugh gives her joy. She has been published in more than twenty journals and anthologies—and on one city bus. Her book, Living With the Doors Wide Open, was published in 2018.