Tuesday, 6 November 2007
The Dog and Fox at Play
Every morning, the dog and the fox pup
Played in the garden without a sound,
Damp and delighted in the knee-high grass,
Chasing each other round and round.
After the divorce, the dog and people went away,
Furniture was packed and the house was sold.
There in November, I saw the adult fox
Check bins for scraps in a moderate cold.
Joy, life and warmth are merely accidental
In a world a sere God made for reasons of His own.
Echoes sometimes reach Him of the hound and fox pup playing
Like the skipping in a wide lake of a stone.