A fox looks on from the safety of their home and the leaves of dense woodland.
Mid Morning
Home

Three Long Seconds
Contemplation
Calm
. . .
I hold my breath.
Not one thing that moves knows that I look on.
My eyes watch the dim shapes that shift, far into the distance.
My ears hear the faint steps upon the sodden earth.
My nose scents the slightest change and weap of air.
I am present, as if my life depends on this, and every moment on.
