The Fox
He pressed his nose against the glassUntil he saw me standing thereAnd bright-eyed, bushy tailHe frisked and sniffed across the lawn.
Creeping through the rockery
He paused
Twitched his ears and smelt the air
All clear
Sure-footed walked along the boundary wall
His coat a glistening silhouette
Until with one athletic leap
My early-morning fox
Was gone.
Mary Hale