Stu The Shrew

Stu the shrewHaze found this little fella on our walk this Sunday afternoon up on the Coastal Path.

He wasn’t called Stu. Although he was a shrew.
I placed him on that seabench.
(Haze did the daisy)
It’s the kind of thing you do
To honour the dead
Little things.
Give them some glamour.
I don’t expect his last moments
Alive were particularly pleasant.
A hound could have snaffled him
In the gorsegrass
His snuffle-scurry full
Of crazy terror
And clamour.
Although he could have snuffed it
From lack of chow to fill
His snout with.
In too much of a helter-skelter hurry
To stuff his mush
He keeled over
In frenzied rush.
Cardiac arrest possibly
From not noticing
Where his heart was
– its pitter-patter beat
Just that little bit too far
Away from home.
Anyway.
Below is another look at Stu
When he was still being himself.
Alive in Haze’s imagination.
Goodbye then – little shrew.

Stu the ShrewIllustration: Hazel Brown Words: Ian Nisbet

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