Road Kill

Walking down the lane a week ago, we noticed a rather sad collection of flattened toads. Some thoughtful person had seen what was happening and put up a notice. Result! The next time we walked down that hill  – no flattened toads. Norman MacCaig is one of my favourite poets and he is remembered for writing quite a lot about toads. I’ll add one of his poems to this later.

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It reminded me of an incident a few years ago which inspired the following –

After the Drought                

Driving home, the rain starts,

first for many weeks.

Windscreen splattered flies

wiped to and fro in streaks.

 

CD plays; ‘Royal Hunt and Storm’,

wipers keep in time

rain falls heavier, I drive faster

knowing now that I’m

 

nearing home. The lane narrows,

I slow down to see, not leaves

but a phalanx of frogs that

steadily leap towards me.

 

I stop. How could I not?

I give them time to pass,

to jump in deepening puddles,

land safely in the grass.

Author: annedunford

Now fulfilling my ten year old self's ambition to become a writer - it's taken many years and a long,long winding road to get here! After a lifetime spent teaching, making miniature ceramics, returning to teaching and training, I am now indulging in a lifelong ambition to write!

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