deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sleeping with Foxes
In the low cut blouse of midnight,
Stripping eaves to their bone
Seeking inspiration in lunge of silence.
An owl’s head revolves around the garden clock,
Her wings harbour time like cars stuck in a traffic jam,
In flight, a compass for rhyme and
Syncopation of sunlight o’er moon.
An empty page sweeps the meadow,
Where unwritten love letters
Change colours through all seasons.
The dustbin rattles
Soft sink of paw:
It is coming.
Amidst covid corpse
And humanity decay
We dream we are the fox and snow.
We will it.
Stripping eaves to their bone
Seeking inspiration in lunge of silence.
An owl’s head revolves around the garden clock,
Her wings harbour time like cars stuck in a traffic jam,
In flight, a compass for rhyme and
Syncopation of sunlight o’er moon.
An empty page sweeps the meadow,
Where unwritten love letters
Change colours through all seasons.
The dustbin rattles
Soft sink of paw:
It is coming.
Amidst covid corpse
And humanity decay
We dream we are the fox and snow.
We will it.
Published 8th Jun 2022
Author's Note
ERULGCT 148. Uma. Inspired by 'Thought Fox' by Ted Hughes.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
8th Jun 2022 11:46pm
I like where this took me, feeling that wild raw carnal desire to write. It can take us so many places and you took me somewhere softly stepping on the snow as I feel the slight crunch of words underfoot. :)
9th Jun 2022 11:46am
Many thanks for stopping by. Never sure whether we seek the muse or the muse finds us? Either way, the journey is often longer than the heart can hold.
