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ringtail possum

Suburban tragedy, suburban ambivalence

Each spring I feel a tinge of grief when magnolia buds appear.
For I never see the glorious display I yearn for every year.
I might see a hint of pink withstanding every storm
But the elaborate blooms I see next door on my tree are still- born.

I know who is responsible, a possum small and shy,
I feed him in the vain hope that he will my tree pass by,
Although my ploy has never worked I keep it up from habit
And I never In my wildest dreams would take my knife and stab it!

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