Raccoon

A grand and beautiful raccoon

saunters, non-chalant, down my street

and scrambles over a fence, feet

sure on the wooden planks, as soon

they sun that prompts the birds to croon

will wind up his nocturnal rounds;

humans, cars imperil his grounds.

He, domestic-wise but still wild,

knows now to shelter, sleep a while,

await night to roam out of bounds.

 

Copyright 2016

T. Allen Culpepper

 

My first attempt at the decima espinel form.  The rhyme scheme is surprisingly difficult, but it came out OK, I think.  I didn’t get the pause in the right spot, though; it should come between lines 4 and five.