Badger, moon and rabbit

The moon was burnished copper and huge when I locked up last night, brush strokes of clouds slicing it from time to time.  I scattered peanuts on the terrace, picked chamomile flowers and a sprig of lemon balm for tea and sat outside contemplating the moon as it turned from copper to yellow.  We see the man in the moon, but in the far east they see the rabbit.  Once you’ve seen the rabbit (cocking your head to the side)  you’ll only see the rabbit.

I heard it first, slurping from the water that sits in the lemon tree pot dish.  Then  tick tick tick of claws on slabs.  

The thrill of that little two tone Chanel face appearing in the half light never fails to send a shiver up my spine, even though the little bugger stole all my currants last week.  (If you ever think ‘I’ll pick those tomorrow’ don’t.  Do it straight away if there are badgers in your neck of the woods)  They have very poor eyesight, so the sniffing was loud around my chair where the badger was hoovering up the scattered peanuts.  They have noisy eating habits, crunching and slurping.  I kept still and quiet, it was right by my feet and it wasn’t till I raised my mug slowly for the third time it did a double take and shot off along the terrace.

What noises will I hear in New York?  What will keep me awake there?  I imagine sirens, hot tires on sticky tarmac.

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