No fox cubs playing

 Looking down
rolling northern English countryside
on a sunny evening in June
silage fields cut, and silage-to-be waiting
long shadows cast by trees and hedgerows
a pasture with two figures sitting on a grassy slope
no fox cubs playing 

Looking out
a shaded copse that may be home to foxes
a bank sweetly peaceful in the summer warmth
wild flowers out now, and flowers-to-be waiting
a new bench, built for Linda who died
small hillocks, secret home to many ants
and no fox cubs playing 

Looking within
awareness of breathing, a smile forming
the grass-covered earth pushing up against my body 
happiness slowly spreading in me, changing
your presence beside me and within me
the same birdsong entering our hearing
the same fox cubs still not playing

 Looking back, looking forward
much is gone, the rest is fading
a glimmering persisting through these words;
we went for fox cubs, stayed for beauty
the realisation that what exists
is the chance to enjoy at any time
the site of no fox cubs playing

This entry was posted in peculiar blue collection. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.