Hawker’s Shrew.....Oh! That England Of Lore Poem by saadat tahir

The setting is old British country side in the eighteenth century!

Under the cauliflower’s leafy hue
Silent munching hawker’s shrew

She so tiny, an illusion to the eye.
Iota of a being in a vegetable pie.

Twitching its Whiskers on a cue.
Wary of the basket going askew.

Sipping drops from the drying dew.
Grumpy chat of a roadside crew

Squawking shriek of a cobbler’s parrot
Leap to left under the rootsy carrot

Noses the celery, by the brinjal hops.
Tail it whisks an a cucumber chops.

Clutch an gnash some water cress.
Mouths an whiskers all in a mess.

Scurrying to the turnip for a chew,
land that shall in bubbling stew.

Gazes the bustle in a crowded street.
Old hag complaining of dearer wheat

Slowly the hawker pushes the cart.
Through the city’s narrower parts.

Smith’s ol man; thinks he’s a bart.
Hawker as always wants no part.

Swallow dips from the church’s spire.
Just for a twerp and random inquire.

Turning and turning into so many bends
A bridge to cross an our journey ends

(Islamabad)
(April 28,2009)