Curled conker-like

A protective whorl of prickly spines

The half-grown hedgehog froze

A tiny statue in the confines

Of the garden

Amongst withered hydrangea and rose

Safely out of reach

Hiding its fear

It must have foraged well

To be outside

So late in the year

Perhaps it found a kind soul

Who fed it from a bowl

And then ambled

Into our wilderness

To find solace

In leaves dry and dead

In the corner by the shed


© Kim M. Russell, 2016


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