Possum in the Alley

The other morning, early, as I started my day
Pulling out of the garage, from my car,
I saw the possum lying in the middle of the alley.

Was he gone, or just playing himself?
I walked over.  He was gone.
What should I do?  Get a shovel,

Unceremoniously dump him into the trash?
I considered for a moment an impromptu burial,
But, as I was not sure of what ground to use,

And thought too that my local authorities
Might have concerns about dead possums
In public alleys, and possible risks,

I called the city services, described the location, and
Came back some time later to see
That they had dispatched someone to care

For the remains of this animal so recently
Dispatched.

Aren’t I fortunate, I reflected, that this is,
As a casual fact, the harshest crisis 
Of anonymous mortality I face.

I had pity for that poor possum, who
Had likely lived out his years rightly,
For a possum.  And I hope upon hope

That I’ve that pity more so for those
Who haven’t had the time to live out
Their years rightly.  
God bless the innocents, beasties,
And people too.