Trudging through muddy fields
The abandoned corn-stalks swishing
And scratching the boots of many walkers
An advancing army of legs
That threaten a heavy trampling
Of the shallow cover where he lies hidden
Hoping still to evade detection
When, at the very last second
His nerve gives way to fear
And in a sudden scrambling and scrabbling
A scurry of noise and commotion
A blur of rushing, dashing action
And flashes of brown and grey and white
A ball of exploding energy
He darts away in unheeding panic
Springing, leaping, bounding from his cover
Escaping into the wide-open spaces
And the freedom of the field’s-length
At full speed, ears pinned back
And in seconds is a furlong far away
Where he can stop to pant
And rest his bursting lungs
Turning to regard us
From the safety
Of his distant vantage point
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013
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