The Fox

Fox tracks…
Appearing abruptly
In the snow on the road,
Revealed to me
In this blinding storm
That I had company
And I was not alone.
We both had places to go
And things to do..
For me,
It was following the road-
Storm blanketed and all-
And knowing where I was going
And to know
Where I was when I got there…
For the fox,
It was checking out the traces
OF likely places
Where a grouse might be napping,
Or a hare relaxing,
Or a mouse or vole
Tunneling in the snow
At places it would know.

For the fox, I would be knowing,
Would never get to where t was going,
Because, for it,

The going was the getting there.
The tracks kept me company
For a quarter mile or more,
And then…
In the raging storm
The fox must have sensed me near,
And if one is to grow old in the wild,
It must have at least
A modicum of fear..
Then the tracks just
Disappeared…
Moving off the road into the gloaming
To wherever it was
They were going.