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Fox, red

  • Posted on January 19, 2014 at 2:53 pm

For a long time I thought it was the wind
channelled around the building, humming
its low tones into my rooms.

I’d lived too long in a house, my mind
on the roof, for rattles and rumours
of tomorrow’s urgent repairs.

But as I became accustomed to rails,
felt dark drumming under my feet,
the song was commuted, like rain.


Today I thought it was trains and sleepers
hammered in ballast on the ten-minute turn
but the wind had won with trees.

In the late sun, the unsung rails ran rust red
neither glint nor well-oiled silent shift
of points in these roots to my home.

Just a silent brazen fox, trotting down
the long, empty, parallel track, unaware
of any change above his earthy den.

2014 © Andie Davidson