Badger by Rosie Driffill

What are you doing there, badger?

So far from your set

At getting on noon?

Oh wait. I see. A second glance tells me

You didn’t mean to be

So far from home,

When the sun sits high

Above gushing, lentil clouds

Brewing almost purple

Before rain. A single, whitish ray

Breaks through to focalise you,

Little badger, foetal teddy bear,

All still by the road side.

I wonder if you cried

Out, when it happened-

Or if anyone heard. Surely,

Your curled image tugs

At heartstrings, now,

May make us think

Again, when we’re careering

Down the road, making

Our own way home.

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