Ah, ‘Possum. Hanging down
but right side up. Is your tail a rope,
your face a smiling frown?
Like a man at the gallows, devoid of hope
who, dangling, ponders the noose,
you are granted wisdom and see life askew.
Your binding tail won’t let you loose,
death comes. But you always knew
suspended there, pondering life,
that people are wrong.
We cause so much pain, buy comfort with strife,
not seeing its love that makes us strong.
Darrel shoulders his rifle, squeezes the trigger to fire.
Farewell, Mr. ‘Possum, to a fate so dire.