Gleaming, Moving

image borrowed from bing

Gleaming, Moving

I heard the midnight wail outside my bedroom
and knew what I would see if I pulled aside the curtain.
Under the full moon, a flash of escaped sundown,
she’d be speeding again across the yard, heading from
the thicket by the Plank Road to the woods on the left,
where Fox kept her home. She’d be as I always remember,
never forget, gleaming, moving.

I’ve seen her take this course and back even in daylight,
when the sun made her shine
like arrogant alloy of cat and dog.
She feared nothing, not even man. Perceiving
no true rival for her territory, not even coyote
come down from the eastern hills.
Boldly she waved her flag tail and took
rabbits and chipmunks at will.

As I jogged the Plank last week, a car
veered toward me and back to its lane,
whizzing by, sucking the air from me,
an exhaust-tinged vacuum.
In its tracks across the road I caught
the glint of copper epaulets near the shoulder.
I knew her and didn’t wish to. Still in harm’s way,
Fox lay, victim of the rival she did not know.

Her eyes glassy and vacant, mine wet and manic,
I looked up to see another killer approaching,
so I pulled her body to the nearby weeds.
It was then I saw it, the shifting of the skin
of her round belly and I cried all the way home.
This how I always remember her,
never forget, gleaming, moving.

Joseph Hesch

Posted over on his site A Thing For Words