Fox Tale

In fresh sunlight, a little Fox
Stood ‘neath the jackpines, on the rocks;
A bed of needles ‘neath his feet;
Above, the jackpine branches meet.

He looks out from this granite rise –
While all of nature greets his eyes.
She tells a story; so does he
And so do I; one scene, yet three.

All her colors come to play:
Red fox fur and bark of gray;
The fox’s belly, creamy white;
The pine tree’s boughs are green delight.

With all these sights, the scene is set;
The Fox and I caught in its net.
It closes in yet sets us free
In boundaries of infinity.

We come and go just like the breeze
And share the scene just as we please.
This is Mother Nature’s dream
That we’re all free within her scheme.

The Fox and I ‘neath one blue sky –
Are one, together, eye to eye.
Each in his story, in his world;
Two fox tales together curled.

(In future, we might meet again
Perhaps at odds or else as friends.
In fox fur, I might sit enthroned
But he might scavenge on my bones.)