A run through the predawn streets led to a nearby school track
where the fox who's moonlit was
To run from that is smart
I also met a tree's split leaf at every bend, and the unfurled
deadly gory-eyed calm of sky above
like a place where fear can start
I saw the fox that stood alone licking its rusty paw, in my
lane, silhouetted in early light
Day did spread like the track's own circling or even like any of
two worlds (of track or sky) imaginable.
Fox-hate at dawn can look grotesque as a crow's winged blur
And so as the clouds thinned & more and more came into view,
I ended the run,
under this moonlit fright
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