Three Animal Poems
Sheep Bones
A nice place to rest.
The flock run ahead; my lull is blessed
By indifferent stars.
The night air is calm.
No sound comes here from beyond the farm
But the hum of cars.
Get up – move – leave? But my legs remain still
And I've fallen behind.
I'll leave my bones here on this grassy hill
For a walker to find.
Urban Fox
A thrill! To creep and squirm and dart and dive
By shadow in the whitest street-lit gloom
And chart new paths across the human hive.
The night is cold, but houses throb and bloom
With light and heat. Behind a wheelie-bin
I'll cloak myself, and bide, and skulk, and wait
While lorries pass, and drunkards trail their din -
This street will be mine when the hour is late.
I'll make my meal of what they throw away,
The chicken-bones my catch, the chips my prey.
Sleep off my feast under cover of day;
Wear my mange-fur as an emperor's array.
Shrew
I'm born half-blind. What's that
Dim light overhead? Don't know. I
Have to trust my mother. I
Careen behind my brother's tail, I
Lead my sister by the nose. I
Have to eat. I'm always starving. But
With time, I see, the light is
Sometimes a Moon, sometimes a Sun, and
Sometimes a Street-lamp. And
Soon I lead my own children, one
By one, foot by snout, and
Find them food. But not always. And
Yet there are always more litters, and
Always more meals to find, more
Mouths to feed, we always need
More, there is never enough. And
Now the winter is gone, and
Now the summer is gone, and
Now my sight is fading again, and
The tarmac is so cold. Is
That the Moon overhead? I
Can't tell anymore.