The Raccoon

Raccoon Raccoon, your shadow
Across the twilit mallow
Was forecast by invention:
Who envisioned your dimensions?

Where is your ashen center
Disturbed to stoke its embers?
Whose elegance there lingers?
What scalpels carved those fingers?

What subterfuge partitioned
Stealth and ringed your tail with ribbons?
When that tail began its swishing
What prodigies of stitching

Or origami sprinked
Its ruling brain with wrinkles?
What rascally connivance
Surpassed poetic license

When first volcanoes clouded
Horizons? Who was shrouded
And who, exposed, discovered
Their true faces to each other?

Raccoon Raccoon, your shadow
Across the twilit mallow
Was forecast by invention:
Who previsioned your dimensions?