Nestled in the Leaves

A mother’s Aztec ruin lay in solace on the ground.

Scat scattered, mischievous miscreants, abound.

I foray about…under their suspicious eye.

I understand…I am not one of their kind.

My paranoia not withstanding…

‘…what is this…

scurrying about?’

Hidden in the open…

‘amber luminosity does not leave.’

I smile to myself and breathe.

Admiration to those nestled in the leaves.

Curious eyes do not wish to be rude.

They have only come for the food.