I saw three rats the other day. In Finkelgate,
two small and one adult,
they raced out into open space,
passed a sheltered flat’s doorway,
along a path, as if to hide, yet obvious
beside the well-trimmed privet bush.
Three days before, near that same place,
but over by the courtyard square,
where double cherry blossoms bloom,
in Spring, I saw two more.
Flushing out from bush to bush,
right across my cut-through path,
two adult rats, in a sudden dash
to be unseen on open ground.
They disappeared, slipped out of view.
Surviving on Take-Away trash, I guess.
But not from recycled waste food bins.
They are magnetised. Rats can’t get in.
It must be tough to be a city rat,
so tough in seeking winter food,
tough in taking chances to be seen.
A woman just ahead of me, she,
half stopped, shuddered, looked down, away,
pulled her smart coat closer, hurried on.
And this, all taking place within
such a pretty little space. In Finkelgate,
where double cherry blossoms bloom, in Spring.
Poem: ‘Finkelgate’ © john william brown 03 December 2017
Drawing: ‘RAT’ © john william brown October 2014