Red Fox

He struts across alleys

as if he owns them

tail held high,

white tip gleaming 

in the moonlight.

He doesn’t like wheelie bins,

but sometimes

just sometimes

they’re over filled

and he can lift the lid

and feast on the leftovers

of another’s life.

He easily scales the wall at number 27,

The man there leaves him chicken

with lots of the crunchy bits

that his vixen loves. 

He likes this man.

He speaks to him sometimes

and says he’s writing a poem

that will make him a famous fox.

His vixen will like that as well.

He gives a special swish of his tail

as he struts his stuff across those alleys.

https://chainmailpoetry.blogspot.com/2025/09/red-fox.html