THE DUSK FOX

the fox acknowledges
with an imperceptible  nod
the arrival of dusk

dusk and the fox
becoming one
entering the world of humans

the fox is busy
being a fox
stops: paw raised

the fox goes
in and out of
time

appearing now
disappearing as if
it had stepped out of the world

the dusk no longer
exists
night falls with my footfall

as if on cue
synchronised to time
and light

the fox stares  at me
beyond me...I am
a walking shadow

the yellow street light
stains us for a moment
we vanish from each other

tomorrow sees
dusk and fox
keep the same appointment

only I
am absent
. . .

*

Riffing on Hughes' THE THOUGHT FOX.... when my brother introduced me to his very own private fox who would without fail come to the window and gaze in at him. We would sit with the lights out and await his presence. When my brother died I'm sure the fox continued to come and gaze at the now silent window. Fox as psychopomp. When the fox came it would gaze at us for about five minutes and we would sit still in the darkened room and gaze back and try to commune.

My brother always loved Raymond Carver's Late Fragment...

"And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth."

He said this was what the fox was saying....the ultimate question you have to answer when death comes calling.