Badger At Home Plate…
The stifling heat had dissipated and cloud had dulled
The 4th of July, American Independence Day. And
I stood alone in a copse, overgrown by nettles and dispersed
Fractured branches and spoil. A stiff, gusty breeze pulled
Foliage about, as limbs cracked and magpies began to land
Like bandits to filch morsels of food. And I silently cursed…
The baffling wait of almost an hour, leaning against a tree,
Was uncomfortable as I wondered where the badger clan had
Disappeared to. Then suddenly a head popped up from a sett
Behind me and one scavenged, its strong back legs not free
From its hole, anchored, prudent, vigilant and a tad
Suspicious, as it fed hungrily, aware of any impending threat…
As it desperately leaned and extended fully, reaching,
It reminded me of baseball and a player at third base
Holding his ground, foot rooted to home plate and stretching,
Ball in hand, set to touch a runner with anxiety staining his face…
Pete Ray
4th July 2025…
One badger, rooted to its sett-hole reminded me of a third baseman rooted at home plate in baseball, reaching to tag a runner and prevent a run being scored.
Well, I had been tarrying for so long in the copse, understandably my mind had been wandering…
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