Turning off on cue,
the refrigerator opens a home
to the silence of outdoor night
where, alert to any change,
mother racoon looks up,
listening intently...
the house is still
but for slow, soft breathing.
Later it's road kill,
but tonight the neighborhood
of tied-up dogs and respectful cats
belongs to her.

next poem
previous poem
Storyline Index page 1, 2, 3
Alphabetical Index page 3
Angelfire Home Pages
Absolute Background
Textures Archive

John Talbot Ross