desperation
he came wounded to our table
and we didn’t know how to help
Roxy, the kind little red fox
we were so glad to see
you still walked this earth
we were so sad to see
the work someone made
of your elegant face
red puncture in one cheek
crown bare
all we could think to do
was say sweet words to you
and look you in the eyes
with concern and care
but when you circled and panted
hungry for our soup
I think we did the worst
abandoning you to the wide world
while we took our lunch inside
This is in response to a prompt from Aimee Nezhukumatathil’s webinar Nature as Inspiration and Transformation: An Intro to Nature Poetry: make a list of three questions you wonder about and could look up the answer to. Write a poem about these wonderings.
wonders
wondering where the shaggy black bear sleep
and whether I’ll come upon one this spring
laid in a heap of fur bone sinew
next to a boulder somewhere
his mat of fur the only thing marking him
as different from duff
wondering where the calypso orchids are waiting
held in the earth’s warm heart
and when they’ll stretch their soft pink throats skyward
and what the boys will say
wondering how it feels to dive
like a male broadtail
or sleep ten hours
like my beloved sons
wondering whether Roxy the fox
has a dry safe earth
with a quiet writhing of new life beside him (or her)
all awake
today I wondered where are the deer?
hours later they pronked across the trail before us;
a bit of magic reaffirming what I believe
about life the universe and everything:
it gives us what we need
when our arms and minds stay open
the sleeping fox
when the horizon
is too filled with disaster
I train my internal eye
on the image of a sleeping fox
we watched him climb
the hill behind our house
on a day when
most of our world had melted
there in the warm
russet-brown of the pine duff
he circled then curled,
a fiery fluff of warm fur
lit by early spring sunshine
he knew nothing of our worries
and simply slept sound
and I watched in thanks
for the proof of a being
who could still dream
simple safe dreams
limbs loose, mind at ease
on not winter-camping
once the dark falls
I draw the cabin walls around me
filling them with wood and warmth
shutting out the fox’s screams
photo by Owen
Roxy the Red Fox
a fuzzy flicker of flame
far brighter than the
temperamental woodstove can manage
glides across ice-crusted snow
in knee-high black boots
he fixes us with amber eyes
gauging our intent
then settles in on the knoll
overlooking Moon Creek
(we passed his test)
first he curls his tail into a cushion
then draws himself up
so he can settle upon it
like a ptarmigan atop her chicks
from his dainty pointed nose
to velvet black-backed ears
he is all elegance
that still melts into ponderosa when needed
now we’ll never feel the same here,
always looking out the sides of our sight
wondering if he’s near
studying any tracks
and sniffing for his scent
waiting for him
with the same delightful disappointment
the Little Prince felt when his fox was late
our latest emissary from the universe’s
Department of Good News
says without speaking
no matter how distant you try to be
you’re never, ever alone –
your animal family
will always be near
