Spirit of the suburbs

A world discarded when daylight drops

Lines its edges for little feet

to patter past the locked-up lawns

Guarded by the ribs of gates,

till down a bare-bone barricade

a Broken  brick lets him slip

and in he comes to find a dish…

(a mosaic tribute filled to drink,,,)

While in the porch light blushing pink,

a second offer piles a plate,

And, as in some kind spirit’s dream

The hedgehog leaves the dish all clean.