Scattering Thunder…
Clammy maroon cloud, tinged with grey
Almost inconspicuously edged out a bright
Sunday evening in early June.
I saw no-one.
I heard no-one.
I parked up and walked, as drops
Of warm rain fell upon the lane.
The environ was bereft of movement,
Silent, yet occasionally stirred by birdsong,
Or the gentle rustle of a faint breeze.
Canopies of branches and leaves, awry
Almost fortuitously sheltered me from sight.
Sundry geese honked out of tune.
I felt tense.
I was tense.
I scattered peanuts in the copse
And through my inertia I felt the strain,
Immobile in the badgers’ environment.
Vigilant, they encroached and foraged along
Their trail, worn bare between the trees.
A flash.
Thunder.
The clan made a dash,
Their comfort torn asunder.
Gone.
In wonder,
I hurried away, alone,
With video footage my plunder…
Pete Ray
7th June 2021
The mild storm cut my watching short but witnessing the clan feeding on the peanuts I had scattered was a joy…
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