Pumpkin

Into Christmas, however Covid diminished, nobody wants uncarved whole orange pumpkins, but if the landlord doesn’t organize compost, what to do? Sneak and dump in the friendly neighbor’s shiny new green compost bin? Check. But the friendly neighbor is on alert and lifts it out. Heavy and still perfectly formed, a fine sidewalk wall ornament, bright in soggy winter. 

Then somebody has a nighttime harvest snack leaving pumpkin crumbs:

Once gnawed, the underside of decay rot shows and the remainder pumpkin is tossed back to compost with wet leaves. Glad that the nocturnal animal had the feast, the weasel wonders: 

Little events happen. Nightly scurries for a singular purpose kept secret to get the belly full. Is the calling owl a danger? Was the animal who ate the third of pumpkin owl-immune because of size? Is a common raccoon too big to be carried off? Is early January pumpkin satisfying, or just a starch hit easy to grab like a human stale plain donut?