When I met the llama, kinkajou
and the coati mundi, it was my first
taste of Christmas that year.
The llama, crushing carrots
on his leathered palette, stepped
back from my reaching hand.
The kinkajou, sweet-toothed thing,
needed the crook of an arm to hide in
not my breath this close.
It was the coati found me out, his nose
soft as a new-born's skin. It was
his gift to me and I was humbled.