Late summer. Just outside Oxford.
The train came to a halt, panting
in the heat. A brassy silence.

Beyond the window, empty sidings,
abandoned freight trucks, rails corroded,
overgrown; and in between the points
a stand of silver birch had spread their shade.

a slanting of the light-
a shadow twitches and
there, ten yards away

a fox

Reynard in his red coat.
Unlikely as a unicorn stepped down
from some old coat of arms-
a creature forged from rust and sunlight-
sipping the diesel air, the tang of steel.

A breath of wind ruffles his thick pelt-
ink black eyes in the pale mask
stare unrelenting.A dark flame
burns there-
starless nights, the iron taste of blood…

The engine clears its throat.
Startled, he turns,
steps like a dancer over rails and rubbish,
fades into that green shadow underneath the trees.

Well ? What do you think ? If you haven’t read the first fox poem, you can find it here:

Comments always welcome.


4 thoughts on “Meeting

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s