Dawn banners are flying in the east,
by the hedgerow shade wild conies feast.
A-nibbling, a-chewing on an epicurean delight,
dainties dew washed in the moonlit night,
every leaf and every blade
a succulent banquet by nature laid
grandly spread for the coney King.
The sun spills o'er the drowsy land,
the coney buries are close at hand.
Kittens frisk in the morning sun,
dancing to the lark's freedom song;
and orchestrated blackbirds chink,
while robins clearly tweet and pink.
Mother rabbits stamp their feet
those soft, silent woolly feet,
stamping a warning strong and fleet.
Drumming fast on sun baked earth,
beating a warning for all they're worth.
Danger, Danger they declare,
there's a Tod ... a Tod .... Beware!
And there he goes ...
bold Mr Fox a-homing.
Coney fuds white and flashing,
Kittens, does and bucks a-dashing
the silent feet have thumped the warning,
Mr Fox now holds the morning,
but there's no breakfast for old Tod,
his plate lies empty, no bunny wad.
All saved by the silent feet that thumped.
************
Conies: the ancient name for a wild rabbit.
Tod: ancient name for a fox.
Bury: ancient name for a rabbit warren.
YOU ARE READING
WOOD POETRY
PoetryA collection of poetry inspired by a life in an English wood. Meet the animals and birds. Experience the seasons. Enjoy the sunshine, the rain, the mist and the snow.
