One Story Leads to Another . . .


Photo Credit: Benjamin Pryor

A baby fox we found sleeping
six years ago beneath a shed
reappeared for his wake.

He squinted beneath the porch
when I hopped down
to look for a candelabra.

I thought he sought to nap
but saw teeth marks
on his back and sides.

Frozen as a log, he grinned
like a fanged clown. What
had he known, how well

had he heard our home,
daily clamor within, love
for wildness flowing out?

I buried him with our king
jackrabbit, stately cats.
Some spells we seek

are born of animals.
Their presences recall us
when our bonds dissolve.

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