Opossum sightings are uncommon.
A creature shy and quick to hide,
She won’t step up to stroke your side.
A pre-dawn guest, a ghostly shaman,
She mostly goes unnoticed by
Those who’d rather sleep than spy.
Equipped with a prehensile tail
And rare opposable first toes,
She climbs with ease to flee her foes.
Her nose is pink and slightly pale.
She uses it to search for food—
At scavenging, she’s very shrewd.
Marsupial she is, and so
Inside her pouch the babies grow.
As they begin to go outside,
On mother’s back they’ll cling to ride.
Soon they venture to the ground,
Eating fallen plums they’ve found.
The generations thus assured,
Go forth, opossums, swell the herd!