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The sky was
the colour of stone
and the hail hopped about
like white fleas
as the bombardment continued
on my garden.
From the kitchen window
I noticed Mr. Duck esquire
and his company of good gentlemen
Trying to find cover
by the side of the building.
'Good morrow, Mr. Duck'
I saluted him,
'how are you on this most precipitous day? '
'Somewhat perturbed, my human friend,
this weather is most vexatious
to farmyard animals of our persuasion.
However, take no notice of us,
for it is the humble insects
I feel truly sorry for! '
I asked Mr. Insect to comment,
but unfortunately
he refused to come out of
his nutshell-bunker.
William Prothero
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