Night wind and the fox

 

In the dawn damp

at the forest’s edge,

a red shadow glides.

Bird hush breaks

at sunrise

bright as the brush

of a sleeping fox.

*

March

and mist blows in from the sea

coating my lips in salt

and the electric tang

of unseen vastness.

*

In the night,

a cry,

a bark wilder than any dog’s,

and the sterile concrete of the streets

shivers at the sound.

*

There is a window in the wind

that blows across the river.

Look carefully and you will see

wild swans flying home.