Two Poems About Foxes

We had watched a fox
loping through the snow
drifts covered
the far field- between the house
and the wood.

He had something
in his mouth-
a bird or rat from
the orchard.
Steadily he trotted to the wood.

The next morning
we went out
to track the fox
his prints like blue clovers
the snow flecked with blood.

Camping in Big Sur
the middle of winter
we put out the fire
to better see the stars
and when we came back
from the bathrooms-
ready for sleep-
a fox was on the picnic table
sniffing the toothpaste
we had left behind.

His wildness-
an electric shock
of red fur
lit by the milky way.