The Fox and the Hedgehog Meet Again, Or 'Archilochus'

 

THE FOX AND THE HEDGEHOG MEET AGAIN,
OR ‘ARCHILOCHUS’

Tom Rogers

  

Dawn,
At the edge of a field,
Atop the barren weald,
The hedgerow shields the run,
Of the kit, ‘gainst the sun, 

Yonder,
The hedgehog emerges,
Just as the finch surges,
Up from the bush nest drew,
The hedgehog’s snout pressed to, 

Earthy,
The hedgehog snorts and puffs,
Then sniffs for worms in bluffs,
The fox has time short,
Scans the land like a chort, 

Suddenly,
Their eyes meet in greeting,
One to other fleeting,
The fox, a hunter stares,
The hedgehog, frit of lairs, 

Wisely,
The hedgehog curls to quills,
And now remains quite still,
The apt fox tries a muddle,
He sees a small puddle, 

Dashing,
The hedgehog runs to nest,
The fox darts to arrest,
And waits with piercing eyes,
For the hedgehog’s short cries, 

Stilly,
The hedgehog waits calmly,
The fox soothes charmingly,
That all is safe to emerge,
The hedgehog bucks this scourge, 

Crafty,
The fox lets cry a hark,
For biddables to mark,
Then took off in pretence,
And hid behind a fence, 

Waiting,
The hedgehog knew one thing,
That patience is the ring,
And laid shyly in nest,
Until the fox had left,

Tally ho!
The pack rush across weald,
Smell their quarry afield,
The fox acute and wrought,
Hears the feet, knows the sport,

Quarry,
The pack smells fox’s blood,
He freezes, and stands in mud,
No bield for the fox now,
He shall be hung from bough.