The Mole’s Map

There’s a mole they call Digby who lives underground, where it’s dark, and it’s warm, and there’s hardly a sound, and he’s dug, in his time, more than most moles have dug, and he keeps it all mapped in his head, nice and snug.

There’s the tunnel that runs to the roots of the oak, where the worms are all sleeping, the cheerful old folk, and the one to the left that goes under the wall to the rabbits, who’re lovely, and loud, and that’s all.

There’s the way to the spring, where the water comes cold, and the way to the field where the barley’s like gold, and the way to the hedgehog’s, and that one’s a squeeze, and the short one that stops at the roots of the peas.

And at night, when the field has gone quiet and still, then he walks it, the map, as a mole always will, for a tunnel’s a thing that you check now and then, and it’s nice to say night to the worms once again.

So he goes to the oak, and he peers at the roots, and the worms are asleep in their rows, like new shoots, so he whispers, “Goodnight,” and he tiptoes away, and he crosses them off, in his head, for the day.

Then the rabbits, who’re never asleep, and who say, “Come on in, Digby, do!” and he says, “Not today,” for he’s checking the map, and they nod, and they know, and they say, “Well, goodnight, then,” and back in they go.

Then the spring, and the water is running all right, and he has a small drink, for it’s cold, and it’s night, and the sound of it running’s a bit like a hum, and he listens a bit, for he’s fond of a hum.

Then the hedgehog’s, the squeeze, and he doesn’t go in, for the hedgehog’s asleep, and he can’t fit his chin, so he whispers, “Goodnight,” with his nose to the wall, and a snore comes back out, which will do, after all.

Then the peas, at the end, and the roots are all fine, and they’re doing their best, in the dark, in a line, and he pats one, and says, “You keep going,” and then it’s the end of the map, and he turns round again.

And the way back is long, but it’s known, every bend, and it’s dark, but the dark is a mole’s oldest friend, and his paws know the way, and his nose knows it too, and he goes past the spring, and the rabbits, and through

to the room that’s the warmest, the roundest, the best, where the tunnels all start, and where Digby can rest, and they run out from him in the dark, every one, and they’re all of them checked, and they’re all of them done,

and the worms are asleep, and the rabbits, and all, and the hedgehog is snoring behind her thin wall, and the mole is now small, and he’s warm, and he’s deep, and the map of the whole of the world is asleep.