Myxomatosis Poem by Neil Graham Marsden

Chased by the night on a cold winter morning,
braced into the driving sleet.
spurred by the light of the tired moon yawning
I raced upon aching feet.

When there in my flashlight’s circle fading
stark as the folding night,
a rabbit appeared in a scene so degrading,
played out in my partial light.

Immune to the sound of my steps approaching
awaiting the chance to die.
away from my turf to his world encroaching
fair game to the predator’s eye.

I sank to my knees in respectful surrender
afraid what my searching might find,
for there out of view of the science agenda
your babies tucked under behind.

Into warm pockets your offspring were planted
to shield from the cold scenes ahead,
death now a wish that my shaking hands granted
and another sweet victim was dead.