Rosemarie Crisafi

A Moment in Summer

Now is the moment in summer
when fragrant spring clouds disappear.
Descending the gorge's depth,
scrambling in dusk, it's easy
to mistake them for cats—
that is— glossy ones:
stripes going up on black,
or raccoons in shadows.
This evening a solitary male
with a tapered streaked forehead
grubbed for larva
Then we strolled out.
Growling, his globed nose
dropped, thick tail lifted.
In front of the cave
the skunk seized the gully,
trumpeting like a lily of water.