NH ( / London)

Hedgerow Inferno

Tiny pools with water,
For two or three fish,
To be comfortable in,
While constantly being poached,
By the sadistic red knomes,
And there thin lines of fishing rods,
The hedgerow is an inferno,
Or danger for unsuspecting,
Tresspassers or wellwishing,
Truants and bullies,
The fish would only spit at them,
If they could and the knomes,
Give up their idle fishing,
In pursuit of a more,
Interesting past time.

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Comments (1)

there's but one life flowing into infinite forms and this compassionate poem sees this clearly a wonderful tale