Night’s Vagaries…
The wind-battered copse
In dusk’s pervasion cold
Lies strewn with the debris
Of crooked limbs, awry,
Blown from trees by recent storms’ cruel ire.
The phantom robin hops
In winter’s invasion bold
Amongst the damp, dun debris
Of rotting leaves nearby,
Snatched from branches by harsh gales dire.
The tentative badger stops
In February’s chill untold
And snuffles at the loose debris
For any food morsels dry,
Hidden by night’s vagaries in rain-sodden mire…
Pete Ray
25th February 2022…
Cold, windy but one badger ate the scattered food near its sett.
Many branches had fallen from nearby trees and one had almost blocked an entrance to a sett…
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