Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
The vixen is teaching her cubs to dance,
The dance of the fox trot.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Mid-March marks the wild animal masquerade
As the crimson embers of dusk fade,
The worm moon is rising.
Stars swoon to the moonlit tunes
Of the song thrush and warbler,
More subtle and melancholic
Than the chorus of dawn;
The jazz of the chiffchaff
And nightjar acoustics.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow.
The glade is spotlit,
Luminous, sublime and silvered.
Humble earthworms deep in the ground
Awoken and beckoned to the spring sound,
To the rise and fall of the dance.
The cubs’ eyes alight with secrets,
The vixen wears her finest gown
Silken, and lustrous,
Her dog fox cloaked in shadows.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Last summer's velveteen foxgloves
Silence the rhythm of her paws,
Beautiful but deadly.
He brushed in tails is a smooth elegance
Of sleek copper shimmer.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
They gather as a promenade of hunters.
Let the carnival begin!
The foxes in my garden
Arrive at night to play
They had their fill of chicken
And so decide to stay
I crouch down on my haunches
And look into her eyes
The little one so trusting
She’s like her mother wise
I see how she has taught them
To fend well for themselves
But only Little Roxy
Has me so overwhelmed
She comes to me at midnight
For honey in a bowl
As I crouch down and watch her
I know my heart she stole.
The other three just run around
They eat and scatter fast
But Roxy and her mother
Make this encounter last
chilly
billy
silly
filly
love ain't for sheep, chilly Billy sighs,
drains many a silly filly dry
just like foxes they arise from dark places
they come to fight and scavenge
As they start to climb they become stronger in a pack.
the power they have goes over their heads
there's no way they'll turn back,
its a two way game
and there putting us through a test
as the rise of inflation gets higher,
were left with nothing more or less
They might be winning the race now
but they forgot
the story of the Hare and fox.
As cunning daredevils fight for greed
its The hare in the end that always succeeds.
A fine family of foxes,
a feisty mom and her two kits
living near humans by shrewd wits.
Her constant success flummoxes.
Kits are tiny jack-in-the-boxes,
heads bobbing while mom baby sits.
NB: Other - Sextilla: A Sp. stanza form of six octosyllabic or shorter lines. In the classic period, the usual rhyme schemes were abbaab.
Always mistreated, never a topic to consider about.
A big hole where everybody is in, without a retunring ticket back.
We enjoy those beautiful areas, we have a wonderful time.
Behind the joy we never think,
we've just enjoyed the nature.
Beyond the wonderful momentes it's the other face of the coin, the one nobody want to look at.
Nature it's becoming poor, as an eagle with wings to fly but without eyes to see the pray to hunt for surviving.
Nature are landscapes to be painted, children to be raised, a moment in life that shouldn't be distorted
Nature is ourselves and the world we have to be feeding, to keep on going for generations.
The ones they will never have a future without the nature.
Without the wolves howling,
the bears robbing the honey,
the foxes taking our chickens away.
Without the buffalos grazing on the prairies.
What is nature when you have to see the penguins without ice, and everybody think about having enough ice in their drinks?. What is Nature?
Respect for the new ones to make another move forwards
screams pierce the night
primeval mating
wise owls winking
we consume lizards, small birds and fruits
our extra furry feet protect us against hot sand
our overdeveloped ears protect us from the sun
we live in Northern Africa’s desert
It’s difficult to imagine
The vast amount of secrets
That are kept in the forest
I strained my neck upwards
Staring up at the canopy of trees
So high that it would take fifteen of me
To reach the very top,
I pondered their immense height,
A feeling of insignificance rushing over me,
And I thought,
“What knowledge do you conceal
To justify the way you tower over me?
What do you hold back from the world?”
Rustling breaks my concentration,
And I snapped my eyes back
To the forest floor,
Where several specks of fuzzy orange
Appeared within my peripheral vision,
The little fox cubs noticed me
And stared curiously,
Making unwavering eye contact
That same feeling returns
As when I contemplated the trees
But this time,
It returned in tenfold,
Perhaps it was the sheer weight
Of all of the tiny black eyes staring at me,
Realizing my typical human unawareness
Of that unique experience of wilderness
Which separates all men from beasts
This was momentary, however,
As within a subtle movement of my hand,
They fled.
triplet red foxes
born in the meadow nearby ~
not afraid of me
[red fox]
written April 10, 2022
[Palm Sunday]
THIRD PLACE WINNER
submitted to "Wild Life Haiku" poetry contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
[syllables checked by HMS]
What are you looking for? This voice was cracking.
I looked up to see two crows. Which one had spoken?
I am searching for mica, I told them. It’s found in granite.
Is it sparkly? They looked interested.
I nodded, and they hopped around in the water, helping me look.
Next I stumbled upon a fawn, hidden in a glade, under a fallen oak.
How are you? I asked her. She was trembling too hard to speak.
A rabbit who had been guarding her hopped over to say
“nothing to see here,” so I moved on.
The forest is interesting when you cannot speak the language,
but when you can, it opens up new possibilities.
An aggressive wolf spoke to me next.
“I am going to howl tonight like you have never heard before."
I have no idea why he told me that,
maybe because I am a rival howler at night?
owl chosen ruler
for democratic forest
white foxes restive
Foxes have holes and birds have nests for bed
but Jesus had nowhere to lay his head.
It is he who calls us
to leave all without fuss
as we follow in the Way that he led.
Luke 9.57-62
Vines blossom
leaving the youth behind
Starting from the bottom
grows thick strong vines
the gardens so alive
a place of comfort & pleasure
such a nice place for a King to provide
for his Queen of forever
Take care to guard your space
Protect it from things large and small
let nothing corrupt this place
let nothing defile it at all
but the King did nothing to protect and was blind to deceit
the little foxes delved under the fence
and on the vines, they begin to feast
indulging on its sweet contents
Those crafty little foxes are spoiling the vine
Bringing on pride, jealousy and anger
poisoning our mind
& putting the vineyard in danger
Those clever little foxes are spoiling the vine
Stunting the growth of hope, dreams, & longevity
All things divine
Those little foxes seek to destroy me
Chase away those little foxes
that spoil the vine
they are so obnoxious
they want to destroy everything divine
Songs of Solomon 2:15
All horses and hounds alert,
when the horn blows!
The chase is on, where to?
Nobody bloody knows!
Illegal is the sport,
everybody is on edge.
A fox runs for it is life,
as a horse is whipped over a hedge.
The law stated clearly
that live fox hunts were banned!
They ignored it because animal rights
in their mind do not stand.
Their other way around it
was to capture the red fiend.
Then instead release him later,
claiming he had not just been freed.
‘He was simply in the way’ they say,
‘the dogs picked up the scent!’
‘Can’t tell em to stop you see,
they will not listen or relent!’
Drag hunts are an option,
but of course this will not do.
Blood-lust is their poison,
as is destroying the land they run through.
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