April 15, 2020
The sun is dropping lower
And I am here by the barn
About to enter the pasture
To collect the windfall of sticks
But then I see the young red fox
Intent on his hunting
Meadow vole for dinner
Eyes focused on the ground
Paws plucking at the grass
And I step back quietly
Drop my hand from the latch
on the pasture gate
The sticks can wait.
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