Reynard
Emerging through a hole in the fence
Beneath the shadow-harbouring trees
Along a daily-travelled route
He trots confidently into the open
Pausing in his transit of the track-way
To stop and take stock of his world
No creeping, crawling, skulking specimen
Engaged in crepuscular activities
But bold as brass
In broad daylight
A huge dog-fox in full fig
Confident, setting the world at defiance
Unafraid, un-hunted and un-hurried
Muzzle hanging open, panting gently
His eyes glint and flash
Reflecting late afternoon sunlight
Wild, alert, fiercely alive
Nose, ears at full attention
Looking, listening
Appraising useful scents
Carried on the breeze
The direction, the lie of the land
And prospects for further hunting
Scavenging forays
Among local hen-houses
And rabbit-burrows
Which lie within his rural realm
Head turning slowly
His guileless glance moves
Towards the exact point
Where I silently watch
Hardly daring to breathe
His steady stare
Burning into my eyes
Then, hearing the distant vixen
Nursing quarrelsome cubs
Calling to him from the earth
He slips away, back among the trees
With a flamboyant flash of tail
As if he had never been there
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