moon over my attitude

It's official: the baby possums are not cute anymore.
They are getting creepy, they are legion, and they need to GO AWAY.
I got another one into a box tonight, luring him with tuna as suggested by the
Animal Control/Wildlife agent I talked to. She said, "The legal solution to the
possom problem is catch and euthanize. I can't tell you what to do, but that's the law."
The law?
Euthanize?

As if.

Since getting rid of them has apparently become part of my job, I've got
to figure out something. I was told I can get a trap at the local hardware store,
but what the hell?
It's not like I have a lot of spare time to devote to possum wrangling,
and hauling them around in my car is starting to bum me out.

I did relocate the one I caught last night, setting him loose in the woods near my place.
Angry about ending my work night that way, I opened the box and somehow,
as I tipped the little creature toward the damp earth, all the annoyance and
anger I've carried this week slipped into the darkness with him and disappeared.
Gone.
Maybe it was the velvety night sky, stretched out above me and dotted with stars.
Or the astonishing smell of blooming elderberry, so delicate, so sweet.
The moon was almost perfectly round, bright and buttery yellow and I felt, as I stood there
with my empty cardboard box, a benevolence so profound I was humbled.
Comforted.
Hushed.

Now I remember: I am surrounded by beauty.
It is everywhere I am, informing every hour I live and breathe;
filling up each day with a million small reasons to abide, to persist,
to press on.