The Fox

A fox lay languid on simmering asphalt.

Its eyes guileless, life dripping from its wounds.   

Its ochre coat still shone like the sun,  

sneaking through the clouds.

Both the fox and the sun pounce

into our sight

with resplendence,

then slink away into darkness.  

But the sun will return, 

while the fox

will only lose its sheen.

I closed my eyes, took a few steps closer,

and pressed the shutter release.

I returned to my car, thought hard, and

drove off.