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.
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.
Beautiful!