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.
