three
baby
raccoons
came bumbling down our path
late yesterday afternoon.
three
alone,
sans parent,
tiny
young
raccoons
towards the house
(which meant towards the road)
so all four of us
(my kip
and their parents
and me)
came outside
to try to shoo them
back up, towards safety.
but instead, these
tiny, baby raccoons
investigated us
like we were the most interesting things they’d ever seen
and they were so close
i could have touched them
(they almost touched me)
and a bread path was laid
but they stayed
hidden
in the hostas
until after the sun had set
(and,
my goodness,
let me tell you,
a sleeping raccoon
has fur
like a cat’s,
and again
i was struck by
how easy it would have been
to simply pet that inviting floof before me,
but i want to be good to nature;
on the off chance that the parent was simply out on a mission
and would soon return,
i wanted these
three
tiny
baby
raccoons
to be able to re-join said provider
and go to the local raccoon hangout
and grow up strong
to become
three
big
city
raccoons,
urban wildlife,
big chunky bois
etc.)
so we refrained from touching,
from “rescuing,”
and by the last puppy walk of the night
they had gone from the hostas,
and i hope the parent did come,
and i hope they are all three safe
and cozy
and warm
and loved
right now
because, let me tell you,
i fell in love
yesterday
with
three
tiny
baby
raccoons,
and i may never recover.