1210

Urban Fox

You are up too early for me

            But you have been here

Your small deposit left behind

            Next to the gate is clear

As instantaneous calling card

            Insisting that I know

That you are still about the place

            Though reluctant to show

Yourself now that dog walkers

            Are out to take the air.

So when you've fed and scratched yourself

            You simply disappear.

And I am left with just this pile

            Drying in the sun

Until the night, when you'll return

            To do another one.

Brian Hick September 2012

©copyright Sally Hick15.8.24

 1178

You trotted in to say a last goodbye

But I had more important things in mind

And did not realise, until today,

That that was it - there'd be no other time

To savour a last look, a final thought,

Take a final photo of you there

Amongst the roses or above the fence

Scratching in the early morning air.

The squirrels entertain and unnamed cats

Wander through to sit atop the shed

But they're not you, and though they pass the time

Your foxiness is still inside my head

As if the world beyond mere humankind

Were channelling itself through your bright mind.

Brian Hick June 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 6.6.24

 1149

12 4 12

Our fox has been around this morning

Sitting alongside next door's fence

Where an old mattress and lumber pile

Make a high place in the sun.

About two, he wandered down

Across the grass, back leg atwitch,

As he tried to reach his ear

Before he stopped behind the holly.

From the window I can see,

Down behind the bench, his tail

Swinging casually side to side

As he scratches at his fleas.

When we move house will he greive

Or simply miss the food we leave?

Brian Hick 12 April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 5.4.24

 1129

A fox, behind next door's laylandii,

Basks in the mid-morning sun

Oblivious to the cats which run

Close to his spot, or chance to catch his eye;

For he knows that spring is on the wind,

Food comes scurrying to be caught

Nights are mild and females aught

To be prepared for what he has in mind.

The gloss upon his coat and black tipped ears

Suggests the winter has been mild;

No mange has sapped nor dearth beguiled

His readiness to find a mate this year.

And we who watch him from the kitchen door

Admire the grandeur of his pose

As, at the unheard cue, he goes

The sacred way all foxes went before.

Brian Hick March 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 4.3.24

 1105

From the train

A fox trots gently

Across the early morning

Frost towards the wood.

Brian Hick January 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 26.1.24

1040

Autumn Fox

I saw the fox today crossing the square;

 She came towards me, stopped and turned

Casually, as if she'd learned

To ignore me, almost as if I wasn't there,

And then you call to tell me she's asleep

Across the pots behind the shed;

I wondered if she might me dead,

But no, she's dozing, by the compost heap.

Two summers gone, since last had a fox

Treat our garden as her own

Careless of the cats and grown

Contented as she sniffs the hollyhocks.

I wish I could take life as easily

Ignoring all the stuff that just might be.

Brian Hick October 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 17.11.23

 898

7.20

A fox,upon the bank above the platform,

Padding unconcerned along the path

Unseen by the commuters waiting for their train;

And then a second, appearing through the hedge.

They meet, exchange a friendly look in greeting,

Then amble off in opposite directions.

When I arrived they were not there

And seconds later the bank above the platform

Was empty, as it has been these last weeks,

But I sensed in that brief and casual meeting

That spring might at last be on its way.

Brian Hick Feb 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 11.2.22

 Christmas Eve

So, Brother Fox, where are you tonight?

While we indoors suffuse a Christmas glow

Outside dark rain has washed away the snow

And shrivelled up the dulling winter light.

It cleared away your markers place with care

Each evening when you pass this way to take

Our offerings cast out in the wake

Of more extravagance than you could bare.

            And as I turn down just one more mince pie

            Idling with a glass of Cote de Rhone

            I wonder if you've found the Turkey bone

            I put out earlier hoping I might spy

            Your fleeting visit like a welcome ghost

            Bringing a Solstice blessing to the host,

Brian Hick December 2009

©copyright S Hick December 2021