Title: Cold nature
by Rich from Hampshire and Isle of Wight | in writing, poetry
Midnight.
We are snug, warm in our blankets, heating enveloping us through the chilling night.
But through the double glazing,
Beyond the cushioned walls, life stirs.
Nature never sleeps.
The young field mouse crisply tiptoes on over the fallen leaves. Prickly, crackling, and sniffing out food.
Eyes wide, and straining, moving slow, through the full black.
The hedgehog hears him. He is uninterested. He presses away, snuffling. Food is near.
Breathing cold, the owl lands. Hearing the crack of a damp twig, his head swivels.
Brightly, eyes spot the prey through the shivery space.
Away, the fox looks up and his green eyes linger a moment.
Soundlessly, the owl swoops off his frozen fence.
The mouse is dim.
He doesn't know until, like sharp ice,
It is too late.
A piercing shriek - which in our padded homes we do not hear '
Silent murder '
The fox turns back. The hedgehog keeps searching. The owl is full.
Nature carries on.
Looked out of window at night. Wondered...
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