Whatever happened to the baby raccoon
mistaking the moon for her maker’s eye?
I lied: it wasn’t the moon either, just
a shiny lost satellite, neither hers nor mine.
“Wish I might” on that & all you end up w/
is another baby forced to grow up too soon.
You can’t fake love, wisdom, or a sneeze
& expect to please everyone. Curdled light
oozing in thru a broken window is like
an attenuated wind. Only visible.