The Fox
The fox stops;
Lifts his head
And howls once,
Calling for his mate.
He puts his head down
With one ear up,
But hears nothing;
Save a nightingale
Warbling it's soft lament.
The fox looks into the night,
With one paw lifted in mid step,
But sees nothing;
Save an owl
Flitting through the trees
In search of prey.
The fox lifts his nose
Into the midnight breeze,
But smells nothing;
Save a nearby boundary
Marked out in the stale scent
Of the local tom cat,
Recently drowned while fishing
For next door's goldfish.
The fox neither knows this
Nor cares,
But he prowls,
Lifts his head
And howls but once,
Forlornly,
In respect for his dead.
27th April, 1992
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