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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #2125837
Poem about "Strawberry Moon," that we had recently and what I saw in the pink light.
Strawberry Moon

If you listen really hard
on a summer evening
you can hear
between the muted tones
of the cacophony of crows,
the sharp voice of the Whippoorwills,
and the arguing
of the opprobrious wind,
Short Creek,
plashing over the mossy rock,
just over the hill
from my front porch, meandering through
the tall soughing trees
where no one has walked
in a hundred years,
in my forest,
for the fuzzy-headed possum,
nine babies
in a great arc
looped over her gnarly gray back.
I saw her last night
eating the dog’s food
on the back porch
from a silver dish
that gleamed in the light
of a heavy-hung
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