One night a feisty raccoon gripped her way down yonder tree, her tack-tack noises audible in the quiet twilight as friends sat on the deck with me.
We were alerted by the sound. Who approached here?
She landed, intent on the suet feeder.
She hissed her fierce warning at us.
We toasted her bold intention.
She cleaned out the suet, moseyed on her way as we watched.
We weren’t interesting enough to linger for. She had places to go.
She crossed in front of the yard and disappeared.
Oe night she returned with three young as I sat listening.
The triplets had a lot of commentary on the world as they saw it.
She barked at them – “get down to business” – and they did.
She led the way into the brush.
The silence behind them had an empty sound.