I don’t see them
If I did I’d scream scat
And poke them with a pitchfork.
I sometimes hear them
Caterwauling in the dark
Not exactly the scat of Ella
Those vandals in my yard
Attacking my bird feeders
Spilling seed, sometimes tearing them apart
Digging up my herbs and flowers
And just so I know who is boss
Leaving behind their scat.