Through Watery Eyes…
Between a burnt umber horizon in the west
And one of dull cream in the east,
A massive tree held firm,
Revealing a gaping hole, an entrance
And a dugout scraped, sculpted and scored
By badgers, a decline to their subterranean world.
Storm strewn branch detritus, carelessly hurled
Lay across the copse like litter scorned,
Yet three barely visible brocks advanced,
Guzzling noisily and unwittingly entranced
As the temperature plummeted and the night sounds unfurled…
The prevailing wind from my peering eyes water eased
Which ran down my cold cheeks as I watched, appeased…
Pete Ray
8th March 2022
It really was cold and both my nose and eyes streamed constantly in the chilly wind but just as the light had all but disappeared, three badgers emerged to feed…
Wonderful.
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