I Think Not

Since moving to the country
I have a limping squirrel
and a broken turtle
to my shame
but at least there’s also
the memory of you,
opossum who entered the field
of my headlights at dusk,
both of us moving so slowly
I was able to watch
as you considered your fate
and then, I think not
written all over your pointy face,
turned and retreated
back from whence you came.

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