For the earthweal challenge.
Out of the depths she has cried, the vixen,
and runs now by rushing waters;
no lying down in the deep dark or bright day,
The earth, her earth not ours,
fills with hounds’ teeth
and the shining teeth of the trap.
From morning watch even until night
she runs, red running, finding solace
in the companion, the faithful shadow,
watchful, padding print for print
with her between the winter trees.
She dreams of a day of rest,
eyelids flicker, paws twitch in fitful sleep,
and the perpetual light shines—
on white and shining teeth,
and again she runs,