Poem for Chris!

                To Chris  - As Easy As That

          Last night when you rescued the opossum,

                   injured by a car,

                   I felt my vestigial pouch open.

                             The opossum saw a light,

                                      not knowing -

                                                Is this life, or death?

                   I remember when you were five,

                   you scooped a Monarch butterfly from the ground.

                             The naturalist Mrs. Terwilliger declared it dead,

                                      but you warmed it in your hands,

                                      until it flew above our heads.

                   When you were three, I fell into a patch of Poison Oak.

                                      You reached within.

                                                          You pulled me out.