Time of the Fox
I’ve seen these outlaws in my garden,
more independent than any cat,
their confident grins, bold refusal to run.
I saw one from the train
resting in the open daylight, inches
from the third rail. Would it burn him?
No, he knew that element too well.
When I saw those amber eyes
full of cold wit, I knew
that evil has renounced stupidity,
and hungry shadows flit through the park railings,
rustling outside our open windows,
scratching at our unlocked doors.