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.