Poem – C K Stead
91 Woodstock Road Less timid each day the squirrel comes to our door for her morning conker. I’ve gathered them from the carpark by the Faculty Library, enough to keep her supplied well into winter. In quick paws she spins it cleaning its shell, then bounds and ripples away to bury it somewhere. I’ve watched her dig one up for relocation in the lee of the wall. Storms have wrecked the neat domain of the man
___________________________________________________________________This content is restricted to subscribers.
If you are an existing subscriber, please login.
If you would like to subscribe to New Zealand Review of Books Pukapula Aotearoa, find out more here
Tagged with: C K Stead
Posted in Poem