
Wild-watch
Late evening, in the torch beam,
fox eyes brown-glitter, noisette.
Fox shape moves long and low
up the dark meadow.
I watch, observe, peer,
a voyeuse into the wild world.
Fox head turns, eyes brown-glitter, noisette,
and the fox sits, a dog.
Fox sits, watches, observes, me, the voyeuse, and waits.
For what? For me to leave?
Or does it feel the tremor of excitement
of the helpless, rootless human
caught in the optic of the world beyond the glass
the pang of loss that so much is beyond our reach,
and curious, wonder why?


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