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This morning I watched an old dog fox, His brush sweeping the leaves Blown into an untidy pile in the gutter, His narrow pointed nose scratched clear of covering by thorns, thistles, and rivals, was thrust deep Inside a black plastic bag Supplied by the London Borough of Greenwich. He came up for air, front paws beat frantically at the bag, The sodium lighting glinting on his Dew dampened pelt. His pyramid ears switched Like friend chameleons eyes, Independent, forwards, backwards, Never at rest. My feet shifted my unequal balanced weight And Reynard suddenly was facing me, Sniffing my position, His bony hunger wracked frame stiff, His tall appeared in the half light To be larger than his ribbed body, And his spindle legs wobbled. Then, with one amazing step, Climbed the six foot tall fence And melted away. This poor emaciated creature, living free, the majestic animal of stories, But hounded, Struggling to survive in this human world. Years before, Knew no boundaries, But was hunted by bear and tiger, Who came then to his rescue, Who will care for him now with scraps, Who will slow at his loping gait on arterial or lane, Who will shoo him away with tethered mutt, Protect his home in hidden hollow, Who would collect his coat when heart is gone, Who would wear it with pride and reverence? No self respecting Friend of the Earth thats for sure. By all means save the whales, The seals, leopards, rabbits, But give a thought for beetles, Flies, mosquiotoes. And no stamping, with closed eyes, On luscious slug. For this glistening fat lump might well be The difference of life or death To fox. Each of us has the power of God over creatures, But not all living t hings are fur covered. These sheets of paper were once Tall and beautiful For us to survive we must share the earth, But draw the line at cruelty. Let the fox take his chicken, And let me wear his fur coat. |