by Rasma Haidri
Previously published in Plainsong, Vol VIII, summer 1991.
From the window we watched the skunk
mother waddle legless through our lawn,
sniffing each blade, pausing to grub
as small versions of herself followed behind
her tail plume, made jabs at the foliage, trying
to perfect what mother had done.
On the porch, toad emerged like jags
of fieldstone grown legs,
a crooked leg crawl, then splat —
one big mother and four young.
It was not clear why they came.
There was nothing to eat, nothing to do
but mingle in their small congregation.
Mother gathered us in the window
to watch these nocturnal goings-on,
the garden residents like visiting kin, admired
for their good sense and unity.
Those long southern evenings
neither skunks nor toads
looked our way.
No matter.
I could turn to mother’s long hand on my shoulder.
Our small heads reflected in her wide gold ring
Rasma Haidri is the author of As If Anything Can Happen (Kelsay Books) and three
textbooks. Her writing appears in journals including Nimrod, Prairie Schooner, Sycamore Review, Fourth Genre and many anthologies. Her awards include the Southern Women Writers Association’s creative non-fiction award, Wisconsin Academy of Arts, Letters & Science’s poetry award, Riddled with Arrows’ Ars Poetica Prize and a Best of Net nomination. She lives on a Norwegian seacoast island with her artist wife. Visit her at rasma.org. On Twitter @rasmahaidri, on Instagram @rasmahaidri.
