Hedgehog Thoughts
The day seems long
the night longer
waiting
in treacle time,
oozing hours
drip molasses minutes,
toffee apple sticky seconds.
The peculator coffee hisses
as I sit reading the newpaper,
the mechanical clock strikes
midnight in heavy chimes
that drag night, spawning morn
in fevered uncertainty,
the dense jade air sounds
almost silent as I look into darkness...
yet a faint secret noise noses
its way outside, rustling close,
as I empty bins in blackness,
the torch freezes a ball
of prickly protected flesh
but a delicate pink nose protrudes,
each flecked quill shimmers
when the ray's amber eye highlights
its shade of brown and ebony,
I pick up a shed quill
as I return, the moonlight
silvers my desk and hand.
I ink the jet eyes shining
from secret fur,
see the soft tender paw prints
pressing on paper
imagine the barely perceptible
progress of words on velum,
I sense the rich aroma of stale bread,
the moist soil between toes,
my warm underbelly beneath
a canopy of sharp spikes,
the clock has stopped
dawn passes in a moment
pop paper into the desk's dark
burrow, buried deep within
then move limbs from the wooden seat,
shaking pins and needles from a dead leg
crawl to bed alone,
and sleep
Copyright © Brian Duffield | Year Posted 2019
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