Fox and Moon

a poem from last night

This poem was composed entirely in my head late last night as a distraction while I was working with a sick horse. Margarita looks to be doing well this morning, but I spent about two hours slowly walking her last night, while a fox barked interminably in the distance and the moon rose from red to white. Here is the poem, unchanged from the form in which it occurred to me.

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Fox and Moon

The fox and the owl and the round red moon,
And darkness lies deep in the grass;
The mockingbird will not sing so soon--
When the moon is high we will hear his tune;
Meantime the mist’s like frosted glass
Beneath the round red moon.