For dverse, a poem about what is going on outside my window right now.
Beyond the window, light fox waits
in the growing grass, crouched
patient belly to the damp and seething grass,
waiting for the food to come.
Fox eyes watch the light that falls,
and fox nose sniffs the air for cat
that comes to find the food
they leave behind the barn.
Owl call falls on indifferent ears,
the deer that barks away among the trees,
a phantom trots, as light as winter breeze,
fox death is never far away.
The field is dark the night is bright,
the smell of cat is far, too far to care,
and sharper is the smell of food.
Fox will be first to eat tonight.