Raccoon

Ben Coleman ‘13

Chubby grey body with a black mask
Leathery paws with claws, sharp as a knife
Under the moon they perform their tasks
Rummaging through garbage, causing much strife
Of all the creatures a Raccoon doth know
The best places for food come at a cost
They dodge dogs and objects that people throw
As they scavenge the dumpsters through the frost
Alas, when the light returns to the skies
They waddle home to their dens to sleep it off
The fluffy, striped tail smells of stale French fries
The water they drink is in a small trough
And although all this just seems so benign,
I’m grateful this lifestyle isn’t mine