My son walked up to me one day
He said, "Hey dad?"
I look up from my book
And there he was with that quizzical look again.
"Yeah son?" I ask gently.
"Dad, why do foxes run away from people?"
I looked at him patiently
I had not a single clue why on earth
A fox runs from a boy.
"Have you seen a fox?"
"Yeah" my son said, "He was orange and scared."
"Well they have every right to be afraid son."
My son, my dear son, turned his head
And calm brown eyes.
"What are they afraid of?"
"Well humans, for quite some time,
Have hunted foxes.
We took their bright orange fur and the meat on their bones
And we swallowed them whole.
We also took their homes
And made them our own.
We didn't thank them
And I think that's what hurt them the most."
My son turned his head again with that quizzical look
And he looked outside the windowsill.
"I'll be right back" he eagerly said,
And he jumped out the door into the backyard.
I got up from my chair and look outside
To see the strangest thing to date.
My son walked up to our brushes
And out popped a fox.
I opened the window to shout to my son,
But first I heard something sweet.
"I'm sorry fox" said my sincere son.
And wouldn't you believe it,
That foxed bowed down
And disappeared in the brushes.