When the neighbor's ferret got loose and came nosing around our backyard into the compost, poking up rinds and peels, burrowing in, hunting for goodness knows what in the garbage, we didn't know how to catch his quick sinewy body. We were afraid of the danger from rabies or other sickness. But he just curled up on the porch by the dog's dish, and Mom called animal control who said to wait till they came, told her if you have to catch a wild animal like that, throw a thick towel over its head, and be careful. I liked watching that ferret lying there sleek and warm in the sun and for now at least, not hurting anybody, his mouth shut, pointed teeth lined up safe inside its head.

by Jeanne Lohmann

Jeanne Lohmann migrated from the midwest to northwest via Denver, San Francisco. She has had a lifelong love affair with poetry, and is committed to that vocation. Jeanne enjoys doing workshops and readings. Her recent collections in print include BETWEEN SILENCE AND ANSWER, and GRANITE UNDER WATER, a prose memoir, GATHERING A LIFE. Have about completed a new mss, A HABIT OF CONVERSATION. Jeanne notes that she "appreciate the way OPN enables and encourages poets in our community."

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