The Fox

• Millie Scurry, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2022

The rustle of dried winter plants
And the pitter-patter of many ants.

Red and orange flash past my gaze
The eye contact is a maze

A swish of a tipped snow-white tail
I let out a deep exhale

Ears pointing to the tops of trees
My chest squeezes the tight breeze

But nothing compares to the strong beauty of the creature holds
Its unknown.