Red Fox

the roads are fickle

treacherous the drivers

unpredictable hap-hazardous

angry vicious vengeful

often preoccupied

with rushing somewhere

from nowhere to make do

 

no cost to mowing

you down running you over

flattening you out

 

kits left alone

hungry in the den

wondering where you went

restive waiting for your

warmth to slip back under

 

but there is no rising

from the dead

as a red fox again

 

alone and abandoned

the pups feel the dread

the deep all-consuming pain

that with the cold seeps in

 

understanding

slowly in the dark

without relief

how this life ends

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In September