These Anthropomorthic Days


by John Grey

Raccoons stare at their reflection
in the clear edge of the pond.
“Wow we really do look like bandits.”
Deer find an old water-logged
paperback of Felix Salten’s “Bambi,”
lick through its pages,
never until then knew how capable
they were of sorrow, despair
and redemption.
Thanks to constant brushes
with the fables of humankind,
the hare treats the tortoise with more respect.
And what is it the birds are singing:
“If it wasn’t for us, no airplanes.”
Meanwhile, chipmunks peek through
the window at their cartoon selves.
Snakes hiss at what Christianity
has done for their image down the years.
Ducks do Mel Blanc voices,
woodpeckers, Walter Lanz.
And those raccoons can’t hide
their fascination at the
rippling raccoons in the pond.
“Wow we really do look like bandits,”
they repeat.
“What’s a bandit?” asks the youngest.
Alpha raccoon’s just about to answer
when a rifle shot rings loud and clear.
A hunter’s taken out Bambi’s mother
and she was so looking forward
to the movie.



Category: Poetry