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I heard a cry today...
A short... call... out...
And so I quickly got up
And went looking...
I looked around corners...? no one...
I looked through fences...? no one...
I knew that I had heard it...
But... there was... no one.
Later in the day...
I went around the corner
And down the street behind the house...
And... there... at the side of the road...
Lay a large... possum... dead.
There has been a family of possums
In the field behind the house...
And... they would occasionally be seen
Sneaking along a fence... in the dark...
And sometimes in the daylight...
And... like it is the custom of us humans
I would shoo it away...
Or call to it... and call it "possum"
In a very serious tone...
And tell it to "better go away"
Which I also say to cats
Who like to poop in the yard
And climb around fences...
And... well...
The possum has these very sharp teeth.
I hadn't been very nice to the possum
When it came through the yard...
But... I hadn't really been mean.
It knew that I meant HIM...
When I called out "hey... possum."
Which made us... almost friends.
The possum family had lived in the field
For many generations...
And had survived... many winters...
Many summers...
Many changes.
But... someone has bought the field, now.
Someone has been mowing the field, now.
Someone has been clearing the brush...
And moving the wood...
And... there was no more room...
For a family of possum...
With very sharp teeth.
I had hoped the possum would survive this.
I hoped they would find a way to survive this.
But... today... or last night...
The large possum...
Crossed the quiet street...
And... ended up dead.
Later... I wondered...
Did the possum call out...?
Was it... an opossum... that I had heard...?
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