Friday poem: 'Hedgehog Hiding at Harvest in Hills Above Monmouth'

30 September 2016

By Helen Dunmore

Where you hide
    moon-striped grass ripples like tiger skin
where you hide
    the dry ditch rustles with crickets

where you hide
    the electricity pylon saws and sighs
    and the combine harvester’s headlight
    pierces the hedges

where you hide
    in your ball of silence
    your snorts muffled
    your squeaks and scuffles
    gone dumb

    a foggy moon sails over your head,
    the stars are nipped in the bud

where you hide
    you hear the white-faced owl hunting
    you count the teeth of the fox.

 

From The Works: Every Poem You Will Ever Need At School.

'I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.'
- L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables

It seems like every poet worth his salt, from Shakespeare to Keats, has written a verse or two inspired by the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’. We've collected together some perfect poems to read while the leaves fall and the temperatures plummet. 

>>>Read our favourite odes to Autumn

Sign up for our Friday poem email to receive a handpicked poem from us each week.