Fox

I want to write a poem this morning.
Need a subject--
you know, something to blame it on.
Only thing comes to mind is the fox.
At first I thouight it was a coyote
for being so big.
I rode closer on the mower.
Rusty hair, long stick legs
Ruinously skinny--like a derelict.
I sat and watched him for a while
poking at something in the grass
then looking up in my direction
and poking the grass again.
I opened the throttle and rushed him.
Useless.
He almost leasurely--I want to say disgustedly--
poked again
and ran off toward the park
with something hanging from his mouth.

Doesn't satisfy.
Needs something.

The only other thing I remember
was how he carried the what? chipmunk?
Baby rabbit?
Carried it like a mother cat
carries a newborn kitten
and I recall how when he ran across the sun
the prey suddenly glistened...

sparkled!

like it was wet.