Maybe it was my new window, the bay
that protruded from my kitchen, the one
the home improvement company had so much trouble
putting in. After the carpenters left, I spotted them,
the mother with her bursting red tail and three babies.
I don’t know which I saw first, which
striped forehead, cavorting in my bushes and
then all three of them pawing April grass, jumping
as though their mother — and nothing else — could stop them.
Such wild creatures, so beautiful, I would have paid
for orchestra seats just to see them dance,
which they kept doing while I looked them up
on the internet — omnivores. At dusk, they scampered
into their den, which happened to be under my shed.
I felt an electric fear of living with what I could not control,
the wildness and possible harm. But next morning,
when they ate possum and I ate eggs, I knew
our natures could coexist.
Lott was a contributor to the first U.S. 1 summer fiction issue and is the author of “A Teacher’s Stories, Reflections on High School Writers.” The pups have since been weened and can now be seen throughout the neighborhood.
