The Fox and The Geese

“And the wolf shall dwell

with the lamb”, Isaiah 11:6

I spotted it in the grassy clearing

in a back-pocket park I’d go to for

the cork-carpet trails more forgiving

to bones and joints. It was a fox, it

had to be, no mistaking: the reddish

coat, pointy ears, weaselly snout, furtive

eyes, long tail – at first glance it was

very real, before my early-morning eyes

could see it was frozen there mid-stride. 

A prop. Oh, that’s why there’s no geese

here, my thought, for they’d always waddle

imperiously around the pond, leaving

droppings in generous volume on the trails –

their territorial post-it memos to walkers,

hence creating a need for lightning-quick

footwork, enough to challenge the likes

of Baryshnikov and discourage the likes of me.

Back there two months later, I saw a flock

of returnees.  I stopped to count them, five

in all, huddling in the grassy clearing where

the fox facsimile had been anchored.  I fancied –

silly, I know – they’d been chosen by the flock

to go back and pay respects to the predator fox,

who had such ill-fated luck as to be stricken,

paralyzed neck down – which could easily have

happened to any one of them, Nature forbid.