Empty

On hearing of the decline in the population of capercaillie in Britain…

 

If the capercaillie cannot caper,

the red deer rut or wild cat snarl,

if there’s no beaver’s beavering this way,

or howling wolves hunting in a pack,

if the weasel’s easily extinguished,

and the stoats are totally gone,

if red’s in their sanctuaries have been silenced

and moles no longer underground,

if hedgehogs cannot snaffle at their cafés

and pine martens no longer pine,

if water voles holes have been deserted

and seals no longer sing mourning songs,

when the patter of ptarmigan feet becomes a silent beat

and dormice slumber deep for evermore,

then we are done.

If there’s no life in the wild,

it’s all just empty.

Janet Lees, in Longdendale 30.09.2022