The Muskrat Poem by Jan Sand

'Here! ' my older son had said,
And thumped the plastic bag on the bed.
Inside I saw the brown-red thing.
Small - rabbit sized.
Carefully I washed away the blood,
Dropped sugar milk into his mouth.
He lived.
He lived with me one summer through,
A muskrat, slapping with webbed feet
Along the hallway floor.
Nosing back behind my books
Playing, like a kid, at secret passageways.
In the yard, he paddled in a water basin,
Knawed bananas, raw fish and clams.
He returned my gentleness in equal measure.
Autumn, influenza took him off.

Why do these extra human crossings strike so deep?
It is, perhaps, that mute eye
Behind the closing door
That would, like me,
Prefer a moment more.