Twelve Ways of Viewing a Fox


I

I am among the foxes,  
In the quiet of the twilight glow.  
Their shadows flicker in the brush,  
Where secrets breathe and whispers flow.

II

The fox pauses,  
A silhouette on the hill,  
Its eyes glimmering in the dusk,  
As the world holds its breath, so still.

III

Among the rustling leaves,  
It dances through the undergrowth,  
A silent hunter weaving through dreams,  
A spirit cloaked in nature’s oath.

IV

In the winter's grasp,  
The fox's coat is a flame,  
A vibrant flash against the snow,  
A fearless heart that won’t be tamed.

V

A flicker of orange,  
A darting shape in the bramble,  
It vanishes like a whispered thought,  
Leaving behind a trail to scramble.

VI

The figure of the fox,  
Stands proud against the moonlit sky,  
A reminder of cunning and grace,  
In the vastness where legends lie.

VII

In the golden hour,  
It glides through fields of amber,  
Casting dreams in the evening light,  
Where shadows dance and hearts must wander.

VIII

Alone in the twilight,  
The fox calls to the night,  
A haunting echo through the trees,  
Bridging silence with instinct's flight.

IX

With every leap and bound,  
It stirs the world awake,  
A rustling symphony in the dark,  
Awakening the dreams we make.

X

Above the fields it roams,  
An artist painting with its grace,  
Tracing stories in the soft earth,  
An emblem of nature’s embrace.

XI

In this world of fleeting sights,  
The fox remains a muse,  
In every glance, a spark of magic,  
A reminder of the wild we choose.

XII

Each moment spent in wonder,  
As the fox slips through the trees,  
Teaches us to see the beauty,  
In the dance of the day’s subtle breeze.

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