I saw a red fox today,
and watched it stealthfully wind its way
through the tall grass on the edge of the forest.
Its bushy tail, with a distinctive white tip,
swayed back and forth,
as it carefully made its way toward a nearby thicket.
It didn’t take long for the birds and chipmunks
to spot their cunning predator,
and scurry away, abandoning their lunch
to avoid becoming the fox’s midday snack.
Nor did it take long for the fox
to sense my footsteps closing in on him.
The rusty red canid froze in the grass,
hoping I would lose sight of him.
Then, without warning, he bounded off
into the forest depths,
leaving me only with my footsteps.
I know it sounds silly,
but I felt privileged having seen the creature.
He made me feel that just maybe
God was smiling down on me today.
And I swear, as I was walking back to the house,
two huddled chipmunks high-fived me
to show their appreciation to me
for scaring off the dredded fox.
I told them they could save their applause.