Saw a fox last night as I drove home. Sleek beauty. Made me think of Hughes’ thought fox and the hot stink of cunning.
He just glided across the moon-streaked road, dry leaves kicked up into wizened swirls as he ambled from one dark side to the other. I slowed the car and caught his bright eyes turn toward me and then he was gone.
I sat in the idling car for a bit, feeling night closing in, clouds sniffing around the moon, and somewhere a fox, deep in his own trot, seeking a young turkey or a little mouse to pass the evening with.