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Wet leaves littering an unmown lawn;
Grey clouds scudding from the hills;
Coal-black rooks in the rain-soaked fields;
Bluebottles dozing on the sills.
Thorn haws glowing in a glittering hedge;
Fox paws printed in the mud;
Sickle-winged swifts and swallows in the mist,
Africa singing in their blood.
Drunk brown wasps on a windfall Cox;
Fat lambs bleating at the ramp,
Shy chanterelles under moss-backed stones,
Silage spilling from the clamp.
Damp fog silvering a new-ploughed field,
Urchins drowning in the brooks;
Deep armchairs by an ash-log fire —
Baccy and bourbon and books!
‘Urchin’ is an old country nickname for hedgehog. When hibernating, hedgehogs sometimes choose daft places to nest, often in soft earth which they line with leaves or dry grass. Should such havens prove to be too near a brook prone to flooding... well, you can guess the rest.
