For the dead foxes of the world
A little poem for a poor dead fox that went unmoved from the train tracks at my local station for several weeks (despite me pestering the station staff about it).
Let the bugs you eat be plentiful and easy
the water you drink cool and clear
the ground you rest on soft and warm
you roamed your world freely
with grace and curiosity
your purpose noble and timeless
you honoured us with your life
and you lived as you dreamed
without fear or doubt
may you be blessed with fields of sunflowers
slopes of bluebells
and the kind sun on your fur