JUST ASKING

Why do you keep feeding us? We don’t give you much: a few bones, some onion skins, now and then something like a token of pinecones and twigs or a lanyard we made at camp.

You’re tired, I know. You look tired. And old. All those wrinkles and cracks. And you don’t smell so good, not any more, not even after the rain.

What happened to your jewels— those little birds and buggy things? Are you letting yourself go? I wouldn’t blame you since we don’t seem to care much about how you look, or what you do.

And where would you go? And when we’re hungry, where will we?