The Fox

As I was sitting contemplating

of my next story to write,

I was watching the sky fading

from the day, sunset, to night,

And I fell upon the tall grass

let it mingle with my hair,

only to sort out my clothing

rearrange it with great care,

So the wind that blew above me

would not ruffle up my skirt,

and the shawl around my shoulders

practically engulfed my shirt,

As the sky had changed to yellow hue

I thought about that song,

that had listed all the yellow things

not too short and not too long,

So this writers perfect girl it seems

reminds him so of this,

and everything was so yellow

around some little miss,

The leaves reflecting orange

let me know that it was late,

but the warmth I was receiving

simply compelled me to stay,

A dog yowling in the distance

made me feel a sudden chill,

and the wind grew ever colder

but I lay there, quiet and still

The sky had clouded over

with hints of purples and of blues,

masquerading thier presences

with merging, striping hues,

I felt a tug from down my skirt

sitting up instantly,

and what was I to gaze upon

but a fox staring at me,

I looked right back

and thought 'Here goes! The staring match is on!'

He drooped his ears and cocked his head

I do believe he won,

He just wore such curiosity

upon his innocent face,

that I smiled and he came ever closer

moving with such grace,

I stroked his fur, admired his tail,

he was so beautiful!

There had to be a way he had

of creating such a pull,

He skipped around and so I found

he brought along his friends,

they danced, i sang,

and so i sang 'Oh, let this never end!'

But I did so, and all too soon

I found them leaving me-

one by one they were all gone,

but what a sight to see,

The night was black, I had no light

I cursed my sense of time,

I was a long way from my home

and it was such a climb!

I wrapped the shawl up tight to me,

and walked along the path,

Trees still littered from the flood

The ghastly aftermath,

The shadows creeped and swept and crawled

and danced around my feet,

I had another few miles yet

and so I gripped my teeth...

I was too tired; it was too late,

I rested under a tree,

the tree of oak so largely spoke

I recognised easily,

And as my eyelids drifted closed,

familiar padding feet,

looking across and wondering who

else I could possibly meet,

That little fox, so bold and brave

looked at me- and then the way

that I was surely headed for,

where I spent my day,

He hopped so happy along the track

that I could barely trip,

He led me home, back to my bed

without a yap or nip,

My dog, he growled? I taught him better,

and so he let the fox in,

I gave him milk for all his help

and some old meat for his din,

I went to bed, him on my pillow

dreaming of the sun,

and many foxes running around

I woke to find just one,

I looked to see his greying muzzle,

that he was growing old,

he sent a look my way that said

this story should be told,

I offered food but he declined

and walked into the wood,

I thought to follow but thought better

I'd just do what I should,

I wrote it down and shared the tale

amoungst all my friends,

they did not beleive my claims

but that will surely mend,

And years later I swear I see

him visit the meadow in spring,

and I think back to the beautiful time

When we would dance and sing.