The Wainscot Weasel lost an eye to a fight with a bird,
But it’s what he did next which makes him absurd.
It’s because he fell in love with a fish in a pond.
In another life he might have belonged,
But his fur had no scales and his single eye swam with tears,
So from a distance he watched her swim through the months and the years.

A year is millennia for a young weasel to wait.
A year is a long time for even an animal to contemplate.
The sun lingered on the water, its surface filled again from the trees.
A collection of orange smudges then reflected the leaves.

The frogs have all croaked and new birds’ calls now echo,
And still sat a lonely, but quite happy fellow.

He followed her tail’s drag through the painting of his existence,
And finally he could no longer put up resistance.
He lowered himself to the pool where she swam,
And the Wainscot Weasel was never heard from again.