If you need a break from the election, read this
The IndependentTHE SMALL BREEDS FARM PARK, KINGTON The powder-soft fur of three matching chinchillas Slipped through my fingers into the carry-crate To gather as a single puddle of whiskery charcoal, Their bundled bodies on tiny pink toes Quivering and rippling in anticipation of change. And three sibling barn owls clustered like blond lanterns At the back of their own box in owl-indignation At being removed from the little bit of safe sky They have called ‘home’ for eight years. I was delivering them to the luxury of their new address Where they would join spectacled, great grey, Eurasian, Indian scops, wooded, barred, horned and long eared Other owls. In this childhood fantasy Of farm park and owl centre I stepped Between pygmy goats and curly sheep to reach Six tiny rheas.
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