No longer so secretive they enter the city.


A Suburban Fox.

By candle light, and ticking clocks
The moon shines down
On the small red fox
As he picks his way
Through a rubbish can
Exhuming morsels left by man
His aim is survival
A day at a time
Nibbling at titbits and bacon rind
Gone is the hunt for his normal prey
As he trips through the night
And sleeps through the day
In disused ruins
On forgotten sites
Safe in the darkness
Away from the light
A new kind of breed
In an alien place
With a will to survive alongside our race.



Poetry by penfold18
Read 538 times
Written on 2005-11-27 at 12:08

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vicky vixen
I really enjoyed this, shame on environmentalists!
2005-12-02


Esti D-G
Excellent poem. Spotted one at four in the morning doing exactly as you depicted,
and he knew where every garbage can was hidden...
Loved it,
Keep 'em coming, luv esti
2005-11-27