Fox, Kathryn Clune

Ribbon of russet threading between the

Bare trees with a hunter’s sinuous stealth.

The frozen curds of twilight autumn sky

Disperse before your poised intent and a

Thrumming sense of peril pervades the copse,

Rousing drowsing birds; urging them to stir.


Crunching along the path, we catch a glimpse.

A flicker of movement. Sharp-featured face

Angled to breathe in our unfamiliar scent.

Softly burnished, muscled torso turning

Already in a fluent evasion.

Delicate plume of tail sweeping the damp

Leaf mould over tracks, masking any trace,

Until it seems we dreamed this crossing place.

Copyright the author and first published by Friends of Rowntree Park 2014.


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