Little Foxes

Dreary, foggy, rainy days;
days when most people
want to stay inside and read and sleep

While little birds hide in the bushes,
feathers wet and dripping, looking dejected;
peeping forlornly, fearful of predators

The land covered with a diffuse, mellow light;
neither day or night, it seems to go on forever,
twilight from early morning until black night

One late summer’s day I took a walk in the rain
Listening to the raindrops pattering on the leaves;
like an army of magical munchkins marching rowdily across the sky

Climbing a mountain, the cold rain wetted me to the skin;
the shards of wetness trickled like icy fingers running down my back
Topping a rise I saw two little foxes cavorting, dancing with each other

One moved right, the other moved left, their eyes intent on each other;
both standing shakily on their hind legs,
like small children taking their first uncertain steps


Chuck Connors, September 16, 2009