Through the milky blinding fog
Treading softly a hedgehog
Groping its way in the dark,
Sniffing oozy smelling bark,
Catching oddly blowing wind,
Never knowing what it pinned
On its small hedgehoggy back,
Never feeling any lack
Of the nature’s simple gifts,
Just relying on night shifts,
Dreaming life that’s quiet, plain,
Till it starts to slink again.
28.02.2018
Hedgehog
© Copyright: Анна Грудинина Ли, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118022802071
Свидетельство о публикации №118022802071
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