Little Red Fox

Little Red Fox

A Poem by LonelySoul

another dream,fantasy poetry of nature



This morning the snowfall of lastnight was still giving it's white blanket to the forest floor.
My small camp had been spared of the worst of it,but my fire didn't fare so well.
Only a small column of smoke curled up from the center,but that was enough.
With some dry tenders I kept under my beddings,I started another flame to warm my coffee.
Soon the fire was warm and spreading it's glow over my camp,melting snow away from it in a perfect circle.
The animals were waking this dawn's sunrise with songs and sounds of their own,all looking for food.
Chipmunks skittered and chattered along old fallen logs and rocks while playing with the squirrels.
It was as if they were children in a game of tag with a pinecone,more like keep away,I chuckled...
I saw an old badger resting on a large flat boulder in the morning sun,basking in the lazy spring morning
and I heard a Hawk screeching out a hunting call,which sent all the chipmunks scattering,squirrels hiding,
the old badger just rolled over onto his back to watch the hawk in the sky,sunning his belly too...
Lastnight's snow fall was melting fast as the sun climbed higher,warming this small meadow.
Wild flowers were peeking out in new growth,trees were beginning to bud and bloom,spring was here.
Song birds filled the trees with songs as a light breese whispered through the pine boughs,
in search of insects and seeds to fuel their day and fill their bellies,some gathering straw and small twigs.
A Sparrow had found a discarded feather, bigger than she was,and had a hard time flying with it,so,
she dragged it onto a rock and began to strip off the small parts and carry them back to her new nest,
back and forth she went,picking apart the feather,taking pieces back to stuff into her little home...
Across the meadow were two spotted fawn,resting in the grasses in the warm sunshine,with the
mother deer grazing nearby,they had not a care in the world today,and didn't fear as the hawk circled...
It was then that I was met by a small friend,who had come to pay me a visit this morning...
My friend the small Red Fox,who had been watching me all morning,sniffing,watching,hiding...
but when my breakfast of beacon and potatoes started cooking,he could take it no longer,
he just had to get a closer look,and a sniff or two...maybe even find a tid-bit I might have dropped ?
When the Fox peeked around my BackPack,I let out a small giggle,as he reminded me of a
small child looking for cookies before supper time,I couldn't help but laugh,and tossed him a slice
of the un-cooked beacon I had cut up for my own the potatoes cooked.
Cautiously he approached and sniffed at the treat,looking at me in a question,"Is this for me"?
As I knodded my Approval he picked it up so gently,and backed away,his eyes never left mine...
I could feel he wanted to tell me something,But thought I'd let him take his time,enjoy some food...
I tossed him another slice of beacon...Got back to my cooking and started to whistle a light tune,
just trying to set the fox at ease,and listening to the many sounds of this springtime morning...
The Fox just sat and watched me from the edge of my camp,as if waiting for another piece of beacon.
I finished my meal and began to clean up,putting things away,I fixed another cup of coffee,
when I noticed the Fox had hopped onto a sun-drenched rock to watch from a better seat.
After I had cleaned my camp,I rested myself...For just a minute.
With my back against a slightly tilted tree,but in the sun to stay warm.
It was then the Fox decided to speak and tell me his story,I guess I gained his trust with tunes and beacon.
With my pen in hand I tried to keep up when the fox wanted to speak,so fast in rhymes and riddles...

Mr.Man with your treats oh tasting so sweet,
why must you throw your meat-treats at my feet?
and then ask if I may, when you wake your day,
you clean when you are not even going away,
not like the others last week or yesterday,
my brother got stuck on some the other day,
human scrap,hung him like a trap,it came from sodas and beers,
he chewed and begged,holding onto cans like his leg,
alot he was in fears and tears...
This morning I watch you burning the wood,
smelling the smoke then smelling the food,
I must admit it was smelling quite good,
then gave me of your own,thrown to here where I stood,
Why are you so different than others we see,
why do you tell of what you hear from me,
and how is it going to help humanity,
if none will listen, if none will see,
the smelly waters or the charred burnt trees,
but You re-plant,you restore,
help it grow, evergreen and more,
why so alone, why no friends,
won't they help,it's just time to spend ?

I had to think for a minute to absorb all the little Red Fox had to say,and was quite stunned by it all...
so I softly hummed a short prayer tune and when I was finished I talked in a smooth slow tone...
I told him of my dreams and the White Wolf,and what He wanted my task to be,and the Fox understood.
I told him he could ask the other animals of my travels,as I'll write about them all and tell their stories too...
I heard a soft rustling in the bushes,just enough to make me look up from my campfire,
only to see all of the morning's  forest animals had gathered around the edges of my camp,
to listen to the fox and I in our morning breakfast and talks,just listening and watching,and of course,sniffing.
I began to speak again but the words got stuck in my throat,as if clutched by an  unseen hand.
Everything went black before my eyes,dizzyness,and I was glad I had been sitting,as my ears began to ring...
The ringing got louder and louder untill I could no longer stand it and had to force my eyes opened again...
only to see that the snow fall had been a light one lastnight,only an inch or two...
my fire was a small column of smoke,but was just enough...
With some dry tenders I kept under my beddings,I started another flame to warm my coffee.
I searched my pack for potatoes and ...Hey...Where is my Beacon,now I know I packed it...didn't I ? that?
Fox tracks leaving my camp...Again...?...oh man...
Dried jerky for the next few days...and potatoes...

© 2009 LonelySoul

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You seventh big paragraph, towards the bottom, you spelled bacon wrong. Or i think. I love stories like this. It had a bouncy flowing style, I really dig it, it was kinda like poetry. Lovely ending as well.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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Added on February 24, 2009
Last Updated on June 15, 2009



Bernice, LA


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A Poem by LonelySoul