Peter Rabbit…
I failed to open the wrought iron gate.
Those tricky portals were once forged
With fastenings of many puzzling kinds.
Springs and hooks and latches and chains
Have always outfoxed me, forming
Flushes of frustrated embarrassment and pain.
“It’s being left-handed…” usually, I urged,
Although I have detected superiority in others’
logical minds…
It was quite magical.
On the rhubarb patch,.
A nibbling Peter Rabbit flapped,
Unconcerned about my lack of resourcefulness,
Going about his feeding frenzy
In Mr McGregor’s walled garden, waistcoat-less.
But as a digital image and not as meat for a pie
The fictional character was successfully trapped…
Pete Ray
Ambleside, Cumbria, March 2012 and in Beatrix Potter’s ‘Hilltop’ garden, Mr McGregor’s fictional walled garden, a rabbit munched, like it was there to support a myth.
And I couldn’t open the gate…
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.