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
