Rapture
Fox frisks snow
with seeking whiskers,
finds a waft of her
on frozen winds.
There! There in the moonlight,
his hearts delight!
Fox sniffs, snuffles,
snares the sweetness,
follows her warmth.
In he goes, first nose
then his whole lusty heart.
Lord of the coop,
he lolls his tongue inside her,
dances. makes love
to the plumed plumpness,
to the surrendering blood. His play,
does not stop
until the goodness fills him.
Pelt slick with grace,
he stands panting among
the feathers.
Then dog-fox trots away
to praise this world,
and laydown
under a sweetheart moon.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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