There against a stone wall

tilted carelessly

was her black and chrome Raleigh.

I roamed my eyes across the fields

anxious for a glimpse of her stooped frame,

her burnished face crawling with lines

and of course her headscarf-

old now

but still sporting a hunting scene;

Beagles

and men in red jackets

with little horns at their lips.

Surely she bought it in a hurry

and did not notice

the panting tongues

the drool of saliva

the staunchy starchy bellies

of the men on horseback.

Not even the bloodied fox.

Shame on you mother (Nature)

Did you not see the fear that was frozen

into those glazed eyes?