Skunk-Struggle
©June 14th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
Five little kittens
Skunk kittens, that is.
So small, so tumbly,
Peering through a fence
At me, strange human.
It’s seven p.m.,
Where is their mother?
I wonder, and gaze
So tender, so sweet
Their returning look.
I call out softly.
They squeeze through the gaps
Towards me, sniffing,
All black and white-striped
And soft-snuggly fur.
How is it that they
Know to trust kindness
In a stranger’s voice?
They, who’ve never heard
Human voices call?
How is it that they
Sense benign presence
And yearn towards it?
What souls have these skunks,
So alert and bright?
And I? I’m enthralled.
The backyard shimmers
With mutual longing.
But humans may not
Have commerce with skunks.
The dog barks madly
From within the house
Skunk-kittens tumble
Over each other in alarm
Squeeze back through the fence.
The spell is broken.
Skunks in fur-clump
On the other side,
While the fence divides
Kittens from human.
I go back homewards,
They tumble over
Each other and play
At the farthest end
What else can they do?
It is a struggle
Living and growing
In a hostile world.
Still, they can learn
To make a big stink.
And get their own way.
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