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a woodland mama
by Charlie Morganthe clock already crawling toward nine;
and bedding down for the night is the day.
an orchestra of vibrating hearts; day birds,
night birds, varmits from the near woodlands,
carrying their possum nestlings in their fur.
dodging coyotes and car lights all awhirl;
moments replace events; each eye-blink,
confirms life is still precious.
and i wonder if they care to know my name;
if they care at all about me? i do them.
for i drive slowly, with beady-eyed caution.
i will be off to the five and dime tomorrow.
i will find that perfect gift; a special one,
that any mama possum would be proud to own.
06/26/2010 Posted on 06/27/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 06/27/10 at 01:18 PM The forest little ones are lucky to have someone to think so highly of them or to think of them at all. Good write Charlie. |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 06/27/10 at 04:06 PM I like your pome, Charlie, especially the 2nd stanza. I'm curious - what is the perfect gift for a mother possum? |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 06/27/10 at 05:17 PM Very picturequest (sp?) write. Loved the images. Your poems seem to be getter better and better. Thanks for the ride. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/28/10 at 01:20 AM Have seen many an opposum "resting" on the road - nice to know you care. Enjoyed also the "beady-eyed caution", something which they seem to lack. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 07/19/10 at 03:44 PM I often wonder if those animals dead on the sides of highways are someone's mamas. I hate to think about it. And I love your precious caring for the woodland mamas - even the possum ones. Finally - this phrase is a real goodie: "an orchestra of vibrating hearts" Wish I'da thunk of that. :-) Lovely, Charlie. |
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