The Skunk


Two times I've come upon a skunk
Quite suddenly, to my dismay;
Once by night and once by day.

I thought for sure that I was sunk,
But luckily, each time she chose
To save her scent for fiercer foes.

My reverence for skunks has grown
Since those encounters long ago;
I knew not then what now I know.

The skunk is mostly left alone
Except for one contentious fowl—
The death-defying Great Horned Owl.

By hunting skunks, this owl has shown
He truly has no sense of smell,
At least as far as we can tell.

The skunk in turn has what it takes
To make a meal of rattlesnakes.
Immune to snakebites she must be;
Their venom has no potency.

And when it comes to honeybees,
The skunk consumes them with great ease.
Their stings don't bother her a bit;
She's for the task uniquely fit.

Her long sharp nails and strong forefeet
Make digging in the soil a treat.
The skunk's small head is balanced by
Her bushy tail held proudly high.

The mother walks her kits with style;
They follow her in single file.
Unusual in many ways,
The skunk deserves unbounded praise.


©2018 Michael Fraley




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