Tuesday, July 29, 2025

Poem: Fox Tale

 

Fox Tale

 

the yellow of the grasslands flexed:

a stretching gush of lions

speckled with manes of raspberry thorns.

they greeted the bay with a stark whip,

leaping into nowhere,

past a pure of azure and a few sparse ribs 

but no sun.

far from the lions,

spruce in spotty acres

might have been reaching up

proud and exhilarant

or convulsed by rage.

axes of wind, swung by

northeastern cold, had splintered

flanks of the evergreens

and tumbled them to the ground 

where

the cracked trunks attracted a fox,

rusty yet warm of tangerine,

a vibe as plush as it was lithe,

curving through a whirl of pounce

to pluck a squirm of gopher.

off then, quick as a flirt,

smudged by the terre-verte

of the madcap groves.






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7/29/25 same day mods... all day .. mods














A look at Down East Maine before some of the significant global warming effects, when there were more spruce and few maples. 

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