Ratty, Late Night Shopping (Poetry)

The footpath ran around the back
of a busy local supermarket
where a row of bulging wheely bins
were ranged against the wall.
A public right of way kept neat
but dimly lit considering
what rules of health and safety
might apply in such a spot.
Yet we took this dingy shortcut
and I still remember how
our breath smoked out in quiet clouds
that quiet frost-nipping night
we turned the corner and saw Ratty
dead ahead of us and ambling
large and male and black — his tail
held out ramrod straight behind.

Then he stopped and looked back, curious
over his hairy shoulder
and his eyes glinted — two jet beads
staring at us, quizzical, before
deciding it might be wiser
to take cover in the bushes
after all.

We listened to the fading rustle
of his progress as he left us—
heading for the river...
Where I imagined Mole and Badger
waiting eager for their supper
Rat had foraged round and plundered
choicest pickings from those bins.