A cub is asleep on the verge,
He looks lonely,
The east wind ruffles his fur,
His eyes are blank.
Now he is safe from the gas chamber,
the bullet and the savagery of dogs.
I pass another in the gutter,
May be a sibling,
Must be a sett nearby.
Cubs out late
are not wise enough
to avoid a seventy mile an hour killer.
Once I searched for Brock.
A friend led me to the sett,
We waited down wind.
Before nightfall his muzzle poked out,
He sniffed the air and set off down a track,
Unaware of his happy visitors.
~ Anne Harding, member of Telford Quaker Meeting.
~ Thanks to Anne, and to Secret World for the photo. www.secretworld.org
Thank you to Eleanor Ludgate, for permission to use Mr. Brock, her painting above. To see more of her interesting wildlife art, please visit: