A Tranquil Place

The sewage ponds are still today
with coot and moorhen at the edge
and diving ducks where water's deep.
This peaceful world could be asleep…
but leaping from a clump of sedge
a gold-red fox is hard at play!

The fox is doing doggy things;
it frolics in the morning air
and dances on the fallen reeds,
and snaps off waving heads of seeds.
It executes a skip with flair,
and loops the loop in flaming rings.

This fox is young, a silly pup
with no idea that it's a pest.
It turns my way and sniffs the air
then ventures forth to stand and stare
and tilt its head – on guard now, lest
I'm dangerous… and then sits up!

It sits up like a well-trained pet,
and watches me – so strange to see
a person sitting in the grass.
I know this moment has to pass,
a fox is vermin! There should be
no meeting point for us, and yet…

I meet the fox's bright brown eyes
and it looks back. There is no fear -
and wonder links us for a few
more seconds, till I stand, say 'Boo!'
and wave my arms and wipe a tear
I should not shed, for I am wise.

I am adult and I am Green!
The only time a fox is good
is when it's dead! I hate them all!
And still those blasted tears will fall.
My fox has fled, as well it should,
it would defile this tranquil scene.