November 5th, 2002
Another poem based around animals and myths. The Sly, Bold Reynardine is another one of those pesky tricksters always suave, always cunning, always getting himself out of trouble with his smooth tongue or sharp wits. Unfortunately his mortal kin do not always seem to fare so well. I wrote this poem after seeing a fox kit dead on the side of the highway.
Get up, little sister
Get up!
This is no place for you to sleep
This is no place for foxes,
Come and play with me!
This place is dull and it stinks of smoke
The path they've laid across all the meadows
Is cold and hard and hurts my paws
Come and play with me!
Foxes do not belong here,
Not when there are still the woods,
And fields of rabbits to play with
So get up, little sister,
Get up! Run away with me
Leave this path and it's smell of blood
Soothe your paws in the grass,
Come and play with me!
Little sister, come and play!