Abstract: A Fox In The Field
At the edge of the field,
to the left of a lone black oak,
I saw him.
His ears were sharp,
and beneath them, his long nose sniffed the early morning air.
I remained motionless,
to prolong this moment to its full potential.
I studied his long tail,
tipped white as you would expect.
His black paws like Sunday church socks.
A beat later, a slight breeze at my back,
and the encounter was over.
All my stillness is no match for a shift in the wind,
and the smeller of a fox.
He circled to look at me,
then began to retreat into the woods.
Before he ducked behind a manzanita bush,
He looked back at me.
I could tell he was curious,
but his instinct led him onward.
Back to safety, he slipped.
I hope we meet again.
