I used to imagine myself
As a young fox
Sleeping in a hole,
A small fenditure in the ground,
Perhaps under an old oak tree
Or maybe below the *****
Of a time-consumed hill.

That picturing of my fox-self
In his narrow hole
Always made me feel
Safe, secure and protected.
Even when the rain and the wind
Howled before my narrow refuge,
I could just lie there and be well.

But I am now enough strong
And enough content
Of myself and my life
To imagine myself
As a new kind of fox.
I am a young, proud fox,
Making my way into the world,
Smiling with a foxy grin
In face of everything.
I am strong,
I am cunning,
I am curious
And that's something
To be proud of.

I can jump,
I can run,
I can fight
I can live
Every moment
Feeling alright
And at home in the world.

I used to picture myself
As a young fox
In a small fenditure in the ground,
Seeking a warm and safe place
To rest and sleep.
But I now think that
I can be something different,
Something new:
I am now a different kind of fox.

So, I still lie in my narrow hole,
The one under the old oak
Or maybe the time-consumed *****,
Sleeping,
But I do it with
A new sense of self
And a sardonic grin
On my foxy face.