The Mower
Philip Larkin
The mower stalled, twice, kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help.
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.
3 comments:
How delightful . . . I wrote an Ode to my Mower once, and am pleased that I am not the only soul with sentimental attachments to my outdoor equipment :-) I am also chiming in this week, after a bit of a hiatus, in the poetic fun . . .
Poor little thing! I´m sorry! I forgot today is Wednesday - ALREADY??? I´m at work, so don´t have a poem, although I have some good ones stashed away at home - maybe later - or next Wednesday!
oh that is sad! and hedgehogs are so cute!
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