{"sf1_id":1697794,"sf2_id":"ZmMNb5ln","title":"Procyon Prowling: alliterative verse","author":"Altivo","words":257,"posted_at":"2021-03-21T14:17:00.000Z","tags":["Alliterative verse","No-Yiff","Poetry","Raccoon"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1697794-procyon-prowling-alliterative-verse","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ZmMNb5ln","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/13/da/13da9ff4-c595-461f-a1c0-37d11fa591fa","description":"Something different: this is not metrical nor rhyming verse. It is in the form of Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse, the most famous example of which is Beowulf. There are four stresses per line, two per halfline, and helluva lot of alliteration.Procyon lotor is the scientific nomenclature for the raccoon, by the way. That name suggests a \"proto-canine\" and was given long ago, before we knew from DNA studies that raccoons are more closely related to bears than they are to canines.","content":" **Procyon Prowling**  \n_by Altivo Overo (copyright 2020)_\n\nIn silence she slinks \u0026nbsp; through the silver-dewed garden,  \nWandering walkways, \u0026nbsp; wishing for sustenance.  \nHer three ring-tailed children \u0026nbsp; thirst in the home den  \nFor this matron of many, \u0026nbsp; a milk-bearing clan queen.  \nSoon will she show them, \u0026nbsp; in single file leading,  \nWalking through woodland \u0026nbsp; to where there is food  \nAnd water for washing \u0026nbsp; as will be required  \nTo live on their own \u0026nbsp; in lonely repose.  \nBut now has she need \u0026nbsp; of nourishing foodstuff  \nHerself, before comes here \u0026nbsp; the herald of dawn.  \nBlack eyes like buttons, \u0026nbsp; buried in face mask,  \nSearch not so well \u0026nbsp; for her sight is too poor.  \nAll growing around her \u0026nbsp; too green are the berries,  \nThe sweet roots not ripened \u0026nbsp; nor succulent yet.  \nThus takes she her tread \u0026nbsp; to the tall-hanging feeder  \nFor birds it's intended \u0026nbsp; but better than none.  \nAlas! Though long-reaching \u0026nbsp; and laboring efforts  \nShe makes, it gains nothing. \u0026nbsp;A mumble, a hiss,  \nAnd she turns to the trash cans, \u0026nbsp; a top that is loose.  \nShe knows it so well \u0026nbsp; as she nears it again.  \nBrief clatter. She's in. \u0026nbsp; A complaint from a dog  \nAfar wills it otherwise \u0026nbsp; but wonder, none comes  \nTo break up her feasting \u0026nbsp; in bones and waste matter  \nAbandoned and left \u0026nbsp; to best care for her now.  \nThe brood that is waiting \u0026nbsp; will be cared for also  \nNo dearth of dark faces \u0026nbsp; to delve in the night.\n\n  \n  \n\n"}