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Poetry

Much in Little

Bounding across our path, this exuberant gallant character ran, …

Much in Little [a brush with a stoat]

Bounding across our path, this exuberant gallant character ran,
her fluid body ripped with ginger brown, and a black tipped tail,
radiating life with every movement and every sinew.

With silver in her feet she springs across a grassy dyke.
Her gait is strong and powerful,
running fearlessly in the light of day.

With her acute sense of hearing and excellent nose for smelling,
she pursues her pray, relentlessly chasing with great agility.

Watch; Listen you can sense her attitude.

I’m coming after you, watch for me; listen for me;
but you wont see me, you wont hear me.
I’m cunning, artful, bold and graceful.
I can climb trees and dry stone walls.
I can swim great rivers.
I fear nothing

I am fiery and truly tenacious.
I run along hedge rows, in fields, gardens, woods, riverbanks,
scenting and tracking.

This is my domain.
I can lure my prey to me, dancing the dance of death,
rabbits and hares lie petrified paralysed; screaming,
before I make that deadly bite.
Don’t cross my path for I fear nothing.

We watch her disappear along the ridge of the dyke;
mesmerised.

December 1990 Fiona Spirals