Poetry in the Ocean

The Fox and the Octopus

I met him at the shore one night.

He was running from a scene.

I was juggling fiddler crabs

When he walked up to me.

"You've got to hide me!" he said,

"They'll take my tail for sure!"

"Can you hold your breath?" I asked.

"You will have to leave the shore."

I hid him under the waves

With a reed in his mouth for air

Until the farmer's dogs passed.

(I tried not to stare.)

"Thanks!" he said, "You saved my tail!"

"Why were they after you?" I asked.

"I snatched some meat; would you like some?

I know where I hid it last."

He darted off, soaking wet

And came dripping back as fast

"They took it back," he said to me.

"I had put it in the grass."

"Too bad, it was freshly smoked

And warm, too," he said.

"That's okay," I wondered what 'smoked' meant

And opened a crab instead.

I offered him some crab meat.

He sniffed it curiously, then nibbled.

It pleased him and he ate the rest;

A leg from his mouth dangled.

We spoke between the waves

So I could catch my breath.

They hit him hard at times.

But he waited til morning, then left.

And now, he comes to visit me-

Calling out at my shore.

He brings a thing he calls a bowl

So I can see him more.