Blind faith (for Elma)

star nosed mole
you work the world
below in a network
of passages.
you recycle oxygen
as a blood protein
keeps you breathing
in the CO2 dark.

acrobat of tunnels,
you somersault
then reverse,
push up mounds
in the middle of lawns
that sprawl across
the moneyed world
that drink all that water.

some say you make
the ground unpalatable
for cattle and sheep.
there are those who
wish to poison you,
skin you for your pelt,
pest that you are
making piles of soil,
ground though grass,
reminding us of
the work you daily do.

you stir the earth
so we can grow patches
of carrot and cabbage.
catch maggots
faster than the
eye can follow.
down there, hidden,
you aerate the earth
eating the worm
that devours the roots.

furred mammal
you nest your young
near a larva larder
in a leaf lined chamber.
feed them mother’s milk
nuzzle them fur close
before they dig
their own channel.

wind in willows Mole
mild mannered,
fed up with chores,
you take to the countryside,
ride the river with Rat,
challenge conceited
Toad of Toad Hall,
befriend Badger,
find Otter’s missing son.

shrewd woman,
you sense vibrations
with your whiskers
and whole body.
true you are to
your collective noun -
not a herd, flock nor litter
but a labour of moles.

burrow on in blind faith.
excavate all the old beliefs.
you with your second thumb,
a sickle-shaped bone
rising from your wrist,
with your subway of words
cut down our aged ways.

By Dorian Haarhoff