Dr Neil Béchervaise

NB Consulting (Australasia) Pty Ltd

FROSTY RECEPTION

London, July 2003

Sometimes the path less often trod is merely rough, underfoot.

Today, I Walked on Richmond Hill

between paths now poured in bitumen and gravelled finely

to preserve, no doubt, that deeper profundity

of history which still recalls, but vaguely, the poacher's squirrel

unawares alert on a sycamore's vertical scarps

[did they really poach squirrel?]

protecting its impish vulnerability while head-cocking

yellow chested robins scratch out a crust

between the cracks where match-stick legged,

and only ever-so-slightly pigeon-toed, they flit

then fly as three deer claim

the Queen's own common. Soft antlered,

skittish, nose-alert and swivel-eared, they skip

and prop in a six-eyed survival symphony

as minim rests and quavering statuary

detach their faun-speckled flanks from equi-dappled

chestnut-forest light before, unshod nervous,

they slip and trip across a glue-grey sucking creek-bed

where, soft hooves mud-spattered, they flee affronted

from the intruder on the path

less trod.

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