The fox sprang down from the hill to my
right
barked at my intrusion and bounded
onward downhill, leaping over the
ground
gracefully, its magnificent tail
flagging disdain,
towards the suburban citadel.
I laughed and yelled oh yes surprised
and jolted
from reverie, as the fox had been
jolted
momentarily from flash descent
and sharp intent
the distinct scent of purpose
or mischief,
focussed from brain to snout
snout to tail
and as I descended I heard a clamour
behind the fences
as dogs aroused from sunny slumber
had sniffed the scent of intent
the full brush of wildness from
the bush beyond
as the fox just stood there proud
and taunting
and they sensed it in themselves
and we envied the fox,
and howled.
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