In the grey-fog dawn, dank and greasy,
A jackdaw cried;
A nut-snacking squirrel, anxiously busy,
Dashed to the bushes, scorned by a cold-eyed
Stewed by the mild sun a roadkill foxIs torn by a crow;
A mid-day spider, mending the shocks
To its web, seizes a moth, silly-slow,
In the rusting hollyhocks.
Equinox night charcoals the woods,Erasing the rooks
In their elm top roosts. Woodfloor foods
Hunt and are hunted in the silent nooks
Under bindweed roods.
====================© September 2014