'Nature'

spirited hounds
leave no stone unturned,
haunt fair game
in nature's realm.

as growling tails shake uncut
the dog is wagged.
rather than tricked

by that greatest trick
know it does not exist;

the shot foot drags
as limp as this fox tale,

tattered and old; gets told
and retold by those who hold
key to these gates of hell.

Thursday, December 6, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: ireland,political humor
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
first published in Bindweed Magazine, Issue 7,2018
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