Last night a baby opossum showed up on the patio. Checking the doors before bedtime, I wasn't particularly surprised to see him. Opossums are frequently seen at night. But such a little one! It looked so vulnerable, so precious, as most young animals do. It sat on my chair, washing his face. When it looked up and saw me there was no alarm on his face, pure trust. I was able to see his claws, his still young soft fur, his whiskers.
Now, do I try to see him grow?
The Sketchbook from an Unknown Artist
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