Just-B-Cause
The Poacher
In country fields where dormice hide,
A lurcher runs along the side,
His master walks through crop and furrows
Anticipating rabbit burrows,.
Over the holes he casts his net
The ferret dives: the trap is set.
As dawn light heralds break of day,
His catch secured, they steal away.
He wanders home along the river,
Seeking out where trout will quiver,
As skyward looking, lurcher's eye
Is watching pidgeons cruising by.
Glancing back now, through the copse
He spies the farmhouse chimney pots,
The hinges creak upon his gate,
He pauses then, to contemplate
The pheasants hanging out of sight.
(His family will eat well tonight.)
"Well done boy" is all that's said.
He turns and pats the old dog's head.
Thinking soon he should start coaching
His young son to the art of poaching.
©
Vonnie Pearce.
web design by :- Pete Croma. E-mail :- petec72@hotmail.com