to watch a squirrel nuzzle the ground
all auburn fuzz, nose down
re- checking the co-ordinates
on a mental map for a nut called X
the shrubs wear their prettiest bonnets
of permed seed heads, legs
black stockinged from stalking
the late summer rains
the lawn has had its last trim of the year
concentric, whorled
shaved into an Italianate maze.
A four spotted ladybird comes to my sill
I lend her my pen for a bridge
I am curious
now there are six spots
two on the edge of her shell
as if about to fall off, and they do
with a shiver, she splits
into a pair of dash away wings
taking her back to her home.
I carry on with the sh sh across my page.Alison Lock, UK
This poem is from Alison's collection 'A Slither of Air', published by Indigo Dreams Publishing
