Flying Raccoon

by Columbine

Raccoon sits on the last sturdy branch
Of an old dead tree in the field
The weak winter sun feels warm on her nose
And soothes her stiff ears and hands
She falls asleep on the branch and dreams
Sometimes, of a giant blue butterfly
A winter butterfly, with twilight wings
And hands just like a raccoon
That reach out to her where she sits on the branch
And, dreaming, she reaches out too
And the giant blue butterfly lifts her up
As the last sturdy branch cracks and falls
They rise and move through the astonished air
Nothing under her feet
Backwards, and dizzy, and not knowing where
But she is a Flying Raccoon!
The dream always scares her, but doesn't wake her
She wakes up confused on her own
To the familiar whisper of the winter wind
And the stealthy chewing of termites

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