Not the otter
In his sleek wetness of a world,
Where he swims through
A black silk tunnel or water
As if flying in air,
Nor the song thrush in its
wordless faith in its feathered being.
Not the magpies
Who terrorise that Terror of
a ginger tomcat who having strayed
too close to their home our hedge,
Out flanking him as he bats
at them with his paw,
as they peck at his rear
and he realises he has
Bitten off more than he could chew.
Nor the field mouse
Who fears not the reaper
Although the combine harvester
Cuts a swathe through her
Cornstalk cosmos
Its flashing blades
Swastika-like
Threatening to end her little life
In a split second of steel.
None of these folk of fur or feather
Have any need of such a thing as
Morality.
Only man needs this.
for he is with out doubt
the most inventive and
ruthless of all Death’s helpers.
Bill Lewis
Pic: Nick Victor