the writer comes across a hedgehog at midnight or the hedgehog comes across a writer

by Rosa Walling-Wefelmeyer

little wolf in grandma’s bonnet and dress
sways at an easy pace across pavement space,
a two-step beat for four tiny feet –

but then, under sudden lamplight,
splits at a stroke, turning into

two dancers, each looking to lead:
the first is keen to effect a pause

to worm for well-earned sustenance;
the other, unsure, tightens its grip,

quickens the trot, heading from spotlight
to
        scuttle… snuffle…   

language falls away like
         lace, the weight of human significance
                 breaks in mud, in darkness