A Tiny Disturbance

A Tiny Disturbance

A stoat, or weasel?

too difficult from distance to tell,

waits to emerge 

from the verge of clustered 

snow white willow catkins,

a moment taken to nose 

sky and trail for traffic,

she scatters pollen dust in her dash

to cross to the safety 

of dense comfrey and 

cow parsley camouflage.

As if ushered 

by an oncoming train

through this tunnel 

of grey willow and alder,

a light wind rifles

stirring the pollen 

disturbed in her crossing.

And to chance,

a spiraling dioecious dance

matches pollen and stigma,

that they might plier

the curved walls of new 

bark barrelled vaults.

@BobbyMotherwell 2023