A Prayer to Willie's Fox
Updated: Aug 6
To the sweet, flame-furred boy who found himself enmeshed in fence, caught in a wiry and unforgiving separation, in the painful human fiction of border and barrier.
You whose black socks padded over pine needle and snow fall, each step a praise song for being.
What can you tell me about the portal place, the invisible line between creature and spirit?
You who lived stealthy and free but left this wild risky plane exposed,
soft sock impossibly ensnared,
the frustrating flesh chewed at,
your own hair the last whisper on your tongue.
What can you teach me about leave-taking and letting be?
Because I think I can no longer use my cunning, clever mind to outpace the whiplash change of loss.
And I want to know if surrender will arrive like a shawl or a mother’s smile to soften the frantic effort to escape this ending.
Oh, Vulpes vulpes, pray for me twice that my love for this life may be as easy and fleet as your feet
and that I may move in a blaze of beauty until caught in my final sunrise.
Photo by Scott Walsh