….
Possum tumbles
like an old football
through branches
to the garden below.
Dazed, he snuffles
through warm leaves
climbs again
limb by slow limb
to his dozing nest
where he’ll finish his dream
of the gardener below
who is wiping her shoe
on the grass.
He thinks she is kind
and tonight
he will leave another offering.
.
(c) 1997, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Seasonings 
Cute
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🐾🐾🐾😄😆
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Thanks for the laugh! 🙂
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You’re welcome. 😃
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That bond with nature. Replaceable :).
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The possum such a strange looking creature and the way they do move about and hang in trees. Such a wonderful description. The only time I’ve ever seen one up close is one that crawled under my gate, when I owned a home, and crawled under my deck and died. Poor thing, I believe was hit by a car. They simply do not do well at night when facing head lights. I love your images.
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Thank you so much, Renee. The possum in this poem lived high up in a fir tree in our back yard for several years. He disappeared around the time some raccoons moved to the neighborhood. Possibly a connection. 😏
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Ah, what a reflection on Betty Hayes Albright. Possums, and the earth itself, obviously has a friend in the garden. Perhaps the garden still exists. Perhaps the great fall is obviated by those who still have resonance with the deepness of the earth and its creatures.
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Thomas, hopefully the day will come when more and more of us will have that concordance with all life, with Gaia.
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Crappy poem? 😁
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You might say so, yes. ☺
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They do like leaving offerings, don’t they? Here, it’s birds. 🙂
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Birds here too. One takes their chances not wearing a hat. 😊
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