Trickster (fox trails)

When~

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,~

One brushed by a trickster~

The other a guardian spirit~

I took the path I felt had the chance~

Of finding a fox, don’t know why~

But dread drummed like the woodpeckers~

The further I looked down the trodden path~

Those saplings, stretching out their infant arms.~

So I came to your derelict patch~

Eyes roving~

Down the locks~

Through the black smiles of factories, forlorn~

When a voice found me:~

“Why do you search so deep for a trickster so ‘sly?’”~

“Because finding you means I’ve lost my way~

And taking the path you’re expected to take seems the worst trick of all!”~

Knowing the lesson was felt,~

The fox revealed itself~

With an eye that flashed the world in a line~

And an ear that tuned out the fuzz, even in this dead silence.