February Fox
Last night the fox we feed in bowls behind
Our house came just at twelve. His long, thick tail
Was bushier than last time and defined
By flakes that fell and fell within the veil
Of cold for whitest hours. He, taking out
His chunks of chicken one by one, then stuck
Them in the heavy snow with shoving snout.
We wondered if he thought that he would tuck
Them there for later snacks, but then we guessed
He only wanted to enjoy white sauce
With every mouthful. Renard had French zest
For food and wanted it to give the gloss
Of snowflakes on his tongue. Bon apetit!
Enjoy your meals from us, rouge bel esprit!
