Fox

The first time he struck, we made our excuses. Like those anti-Hunt letters in the Western Daily Press, we tried to see it from his point of view. He’s only doing what comes naturally, I said. Boy, eyes red, voice choked with tears and snot, didn’t sound convinced.  We’ll have to bury her, he insisted. …

Waking Up

They pierce the near-night silence, even before the Overground rumbles. Robin calls, sharp and insistent. Blackbird, shrill and strident, sends a warning volley. Early sunlight strokes my sleep cold face. Wild garlic and crushed bluebells, the scent of memory, drift through an open window. Like this London morning, welcoming Spring. This was a piece of …