Little Hedgehog
A poem about an encounter in autumn
Little Hedgehog
In the amber light of morning,
At the honied touch of day,
As breakfast craned its weary neck,
A hedgehog strolled my way.
In the damson light, of waning night,
He failed to spy me there,
But picked with keen and mobile nose,
My scent from out the air.
At the berry break of dawning,
He departed from me then,
On leaves that rustled, whispering we
Would never meet again.
About the Creator
Niall James Bradley
I am a teacher who lives in the north west of England. I write about many subjects, but mainly I write non-fiction about things that interest me, fiction about what comes into my head and poetry about how I feel.
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