Foxes in Snow

Blood and fire, mingled reds,

Mark the snowbank. Foxes' heads

Raise twin tipis. Tails flick.

White capped burning bushes, quick,

Up, alert—a sudden rush.

The hare takes form from snow,

A blur of white. Too slow

The bound, converging fox

And vixen take him down.

They dance on winter ground,

Soundless in the morning hush.

White hare's bright blood's ablaze

On snow where foxes graze.

–December, 1997