P. Brown: ‘Timing’ and ‘Small Blue-Tongue’

Timing

Long day’s end closed
As the wheels rolled
And the headlights
Searched the dark

So close, one more corner
Then your startled eye appeared
Instantly foot on brake
Car straightened and thud
All at once
And you rolled away
Car stalled mid-road
Spilling broken plastics

So close, so close
Then chance played its hand
And I limped home and you
Limped to your death.

P. Brown

Small Blue-Tongue

I pushed the mower into the grass
But stopped short recognizing your shape
I picked you up, not being big and certainly not menacing
Your blue tongue searching for assurance
Your beady eyes wide
I stroked you as I would a puppy
Under the chin then above the eyes where your ears are
You seemed to fall asleep
So I left you and returned to the mower
Next day I searched you out but you were gone
Good luck, I thought, good luck.

P. Brown