the fallen fox

He was as if asleep,

the curb his pillow,

his wheeled assassin skilled,

beautiful still his coat of red,

without mark was he killed

I was thankful for that

as in the queue I sat.


As I stared at the body,

there in the gutter,

I was drawn to his stilled snout,

the eyes seemingly at peace

and his fangs bared in silent shout

white, not yet yellowed with age,

a final futile gesture of rage.


I wondered if he was going,

or coming back,

when crossing the road, risking all,

aware that death here waits,

on the black tarmac of urban sprawl

paying dearly for his diet of waste

by a chance to cross made in haste.


As the traffic moved on,  

and the rain fell,

I looked again at poor fallen fox,

now becoming a gutter dam,

as against him lay a burger box,

paper, crisp packets, and cola can,

animal beauty and the ugliness of man.

9 thoughts on “THE FALLEN FOX

  1. The song, photo, and poem are perfection, Nige ! Love The Doors. I know my day has started properly with my favorite poet, words that deliver on every level, and a favorite tune. That last line sums up your poem beautifully.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Nigel, with your rhythm and gentle words your poem paints beautifully what is so tragic.
    The road kills become a big sorrow which it really is.
    Final degradation is when the fox becomes a ‘gutterdam’.
    I wish it was possible for the driver to stop and at least put the fox away from the traffic.

    Beautiful poem again…….thank you

    Liked by 1 person

  3. That last verse cuts deeply Nigel and is could be a synopsis of modern day life As a country dweller I now witness the frightening amount of wildlife being killed on our roads, and the litter being deposited in the countryside. Excellent and hard hitting poetry Nigel.

    Liked by 1 person

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