Category Archives: Death

Meadow Talk

On thé farm

May 13 2019

 

A thing of beauty and intent

Russet red flash in the verdant grass

Must have been

I wasn’t there

 

Flat bush of a tail, a back, a snout

Snaking low in the lush grass

So sleek, so lovely

I didn’t see it

 

The sheep knew and bleeted

The cows lowed unheeded

I didn’t hear it

 

The flock watched

The ewe saw

She butchered the lamb

Right in front of her in the field

In broad daylight, the vixen

 

There was protest, i’m sure

Not from me, I wasn’t there

 

Half the corpse was dragged, neatly sawn, back to the cubs snuggled in their den, unseen

They rejoiced, I guess

I didn’t witness this

 

I know because the farmer reported his findings in the early evening along with the evidence that he put in the bag for the knacker man later

 

I wasn’t there

I wasn’t there

But I can see it

Wither

Haiku

 

the crocuses died

of old age, I suppose, they said

they did autopsies

 

n.b after a lovely warm and sunny start to Spring with all the first flowers courageously breaking through to dot the earth with hopeful colour, the Snow comes and kills them off in the night. It would have happened eventually, I suppose, from natural causes. You be the judge.