She looks tired – it isn’t her time of day,
and I think she is hurting.
The animal control people scoop her up,
and I hope they mean it
when they say they’ll let her go
if her broken paw heals.
Send me a Francis to sing in my garden.
Sister Opossum, Brother Lemontree,
and, always huddled somewhere
in the corner where I don’t let my child play,
Uncle California Drought –
Praise God for each rescue
that reminds us we are family,
for we, who have discovered cars,
and mountain top coal removal,
we who cut trees like there is
no tomorrow –
are making traps for one another.
And then we do not want to be there
to see the painful limping away,
the weary red eyes,
the fear, the loss of all the babies
who may be carried
in the world’s pouch.