Badger Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE
Badger
As the dusk of a still
And a silent eve,
Descends to the arms
Of the waiting night.
A rustle does sound
Through the lying leaves,
And the brittle twigs
Of the dying wood.
The cautious eyes
And a wary stare,
Emerge from the dark
Of the hidden sett.
As the badger roams
In the quest for food,
Through the bones
Of the tracks he wore.
Andrew Blakemore
Verily, a lovely poem depicting the evening and the badger Loved reading it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 2:25:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Hunger the instinct makes all of us roaming. A beautiful poem.