SPIKE

SPIKE

Daylight confusion reigns,

the creature fails

to separate diurnal from nocturnal rules.

One easily discerns

something’s amiss

but has no ready answer

to the hedgehogs plight.

Find a nice box, line it

with newsprint, hay and towels

for the bewildered traveller,

leave it a snack

to nibble on. Come morning

the food has gone,

a coil of spines

heaves sleeping breaths

amongst the packaging.

I compliment myself

on job well done. Later,

the sun has reached it’s powering height,

the creature ventures out

and dozes on the sun-drenched lawn –

I move the spiky one

back into sheltered snuggling warmth

where he remains this time

but never roams again.

Malcolm Evison

12 August 2009