Steven Schroeder | they is us
Old possum ambles across a lawn
two doors down at sunrise.
Eyes on the ground, she pays me no mind
until I slow my pace
to watch her make her way slowly
toward a bed of flowers.
She turns.
I stop.
Eyes with something of the sun in them
meet, one thought between us:
they is us. We
turn, eyes
on the ground
again, and move on.
Chicago
July 2019
