number nuts

a poem by Leif Phillips, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

A possum steady of hands
numbered his nuts for all to see
he kept them safe and sound
high in his favourite tree
he would only eat one a day
to his hunger would never concede
he wanted the rest in dowry
if perchance he decided to breed
the magpies would swoop in spring
on this possum as he scampered
and he would yell in possum language
that he had a helmet for a head
all winter he would count
like all good fictitious characters do
and if the numbers got too low
he would dream of magpie stew
old possum is still there
in that tree tall in the park
and if you listen not even closely
you will hear him counting in the dark.


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