Abstract: A Fox In The Field

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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.

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