If I could, I’d marry Nature

the patient kitchen spider
who I’ve only ever met once
guarding my tea bags from all known and unknown danger

the grey-capped robin
reminding me, ahem
that it’s way past breakfast time
and not, ahem
for the first time

the magpie balancing on
the edge of the bird table
so weighty
so handsome
so regal
so keen

the wide-eyed mare
nostrils flaring and quivering around the rising vapours
of my morning cup of coffee

the young round rabbit
snoozing on my doorstep
midday sun illuminating the ruby vessels of its
slowly flopping ear

the sunbathing adder coiled upon the path
thick as rope
thrilling as gold

the inquisitive cow
bovine slobber drooling from her inquisitive nose
as she rasps her sturdy tongue across my open salty palm

the diplomatic stoat
scurrying between hedgerow worlds
pulling liminal strings

and the dawdling badger

the dawdling badger
slowly waddling up the lane ahead of me
lost in brockish thought
serenaded by such finely descending evening light
and humming the sort of song that only dawdling waddling badgers hum
when they think nobody is listening

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