She sits at the front of the bus,
curved over a black pram.

The fox looks out,
then looks at the little one
she's holding in her arms.

Her nose points up,
her small mouth is tightly shut.

The fox has nothing to say
today.

She carries a bag of flowers.

Her nails have a dark red
polish on that is falling into pieces.

Her small, dark eyes
scan everything.

First out
then him
then me.

She smiles,
and looks for compassion.

The fox has nothing to say
today.