Barbara Dordi
Gleaning
There was just one – ginger, bushy-tailed –
skipping the high-wire electricity cable
like Blondin, hurling itself onto Telecom wires
to glide across the road to its goal:
the ready-to-drop almonds
on trees shading rue du Cimetière.
It swung free, eating at random. Then, wham!
Albert whacked the squirrel down with his cane.
Come autumn, he shook the almonds free,
caught them in nets, to await his wife’s touch.
In Catherine’s hands they soon became pâte and praline,
to bulk up their fast dwindling store.
The next year there were two, acrobating
the same route to the almonds, Albert lying
in wait, we willing them to escape.
We changed our morning coffee time to watch
the old man’s pests – this dare-devil endangered
species – wondering where they hid their trove.
This year there are five trapezing the trees –
day after day – our morning cabaret. Swish –
tock, outer skins drop, one by one, all morning long,
Albert no longer knowing what a cane is,
or with whom he shares a bed,
Catherine gleaning what the squirrels leave.
skipping the high-wire electricity cable
like Blondin, hurling itself onto Telecom wires
to glide across the road to its goal:
the ready-to-drop almonds
on trees shading rue du Cimetière.
It swung free, eating at random. Then, wham!
Albert whacked the squirrel down with his cane.
Come autumn, he shook the almonds free,
caught them in nets, to await his wife’s touch.
In Catherine’s hands they soon became pâte and praline,
to bulk up their fast dwindling store.
The next year there were two, acrobating
the same route to the almonds, Albert lying
in wait, we willing them to escape.
We changed our morning coffee time to watch
the old man’s pests – this dare-devil endangered
species – wondering where they hid their trove.
This year there are five trapezing the trees –
day after day – our morning cabaret. Swish –
tock, outer skins drop, one by one, all morning long,
Albert no longer knowing what a cane is,
or with whom he shares a bed,
Catherine gleaning what the squirrels leave.
Barbara Dordi took an MA in Creative Writing at Lancaster University and edits a poetry journal, Equinox. She has published five poetry pamplets and her latest book is Entre-Deux – poems about living in France written in both English and French.
Page(s) 76
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