They made a convoy this morning in the dim light before the rain, a dozen vans driven by red-face men with big bellies, full of dogs and death. They gathered in the field beyond, and I waited for the surge of excitement of released dogs, the shouts of encouragement. But in the silence before the rain, as the sky darkened, they roared away, taking their guns and their dogs to another site, and relief that the massacre would not be here was tempered by the certitude that somewhere a mother and her cubs would lose their lives in terror.

World full of killing

yet we add to the pain

buds fall unopened.