Where the white fox runs

This Sunday

wondering how it's here already

and what it's like

to free fall  like a leaf

caught on the morning breeze.

Joan Baez

and Joni Mitchell  on the music player

their sultry,

soothing tones making me so happy.

Strange,

these sabbath thoughts.

I find myself thinking

of trees,

almost undressed,

waiting for the first dusting of snow.

Seeing with minds eye

the frosty fields at night

( the ones with the low hanging sun )

dreaming of the white fox

as it runs through  the glistening branches

and wishing I could be there.

I imagine I can see it's breath,

warm ~

on the cold night air.

Have you ever seen the way firewood shifts a little

when it's burning in the hearth?

Is it also,

longing to be on its way ?






Top image today
via Google because I've never actually seen
a white fox to photograph

Current adulations
any book about JFK

Pumpkins

The colour orange

Pretty satchels