Half a mile from the highway,
inside a cul-de-sac
at the bottom of the hill
behind the brick house
beyond the grassy grass
within the wooded area
there used to live a family of baby foxes
mama came and went,
babies stayed and played
they hid at days light most of the time,
but if you stayed real still
stayed real quite
you could hear them chase each other’s tails
pretending to hunt squirrels
attempting to squash acorns
if you forgot about yourself for a brief minute,
you could possibly even see them
tiptoe out from behind the shed (where they had burrowed a home for themselves)
but then one day they grew, packed up their things
and moved to a new, larger home
leaving behind
the house,
the cul-de-sac,
me.
Sometimes I wait and wait and wait
hoping that I’ll be still enough
that I’ll quite my mind enough
to dwell among those babies again.
