Like Fleeting Foxes

They burn the field with floodlights
to scatter the local foxes, who flee

when it’s bright, burying themselves
in brush and broken bracken.

Their shadows are liquid quick, drawn
to the secrecy of their burrows like magnets.

We were the same, diving beneath
the underpass for that moment

of truffle rarity, where the glow of neon signs
and sporadic, spiralling lights were gone

and we were left in the cool air,
bathed in the silence of the night.

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3 thoughts on “Like Fleeting Foxes

  1. This is solid writing here and so incredibly inviting:

    “Their shadows are liquid quick, drawn
    to the secrecy of their burrows like magnets.

    We were the same, diving beneath
    the underpass for that moment

    of truffle rarity, where the glow of neon signs
    and sporadic, spiralling lights were gone

    and we were left in the cool air,
    bathed in the silence of the night.”

    The words simply jump off of the screen. Thanks, you guys for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

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