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
. . .
Nov 15, 2019
Nov 15, 2019 at 9:26 AM UTC
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 the 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.
