The Wintering Fox by Meg Smith

The Wintering Fox
Meg Smith

A field waxes white; grass shimmers in frost.
Night moves in its naked path.
A light burns in copper eyes, and in the
slash of scarlet across a dark road.
This is my one kept memory,
that I summon at the start of every journey,
with colors of flame
at every crossing, otherwise cold.


This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply