1887

The sheep man bent
to study the tracks
right next to the tent.
That fox did love
to stir up a man.

No one to talk to for weeks
made him strange enough
to fall for the foolishness
of a smart kit fox.

He chases his tail
in the moonlight,
speaks in insolent barks.
You look for his narrow face
peering over the rim rocks,
feel less alone with him there.

First he stays hidden,
then can�t wait
to speak to you,
to arch his tail,
a red and wild affair.

Clearly, he is delighted
with his rare possession,
sashays past you
like a gent strolling
in his best evening outfit
with an invite to supper.

The rancher chases him,
dodges awkwardly
in their nameless game.
The fox smiles
in the moonlight
at the man he taught to play.