Fox

Two Poems by Beth Paulson

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Red Fox

A blaze of gold
            more than red
in early evening light,
            you strode slow through snow-
dusted new grass skirting
            a low hill behind the house.
Then black ears pointed up, you sensed
            my presence on the porch
and turned your sleek head, sharp nose,
            toward me quick-
flashing black bead eyes.

How you lit up
            the dull afternoon
with your confidence
            and bravado

and in that moment gave me
            a grim hint of your intent
before you trod soundless
            to the forest edge
where the lesser creatures live.

Bright hunter—
            what more do I have
to fear or desire?

 

 

Primroses

At day’s end along the dusty path
I saw them, pale-pink votives glowing
              in the gravelly stone
              on the brown bank
              up from the clamoring river.

They were evening primroses
              sprung from gray-green, leathery leaves
              unfolding their silken petals, opening up
              to bright stamen centers.
They were the only blooming in that dark place.

I believe there are people like that, too,
              who cling to what’s in this world
              such as the poor person who offers
              the stranger bread or a song.

 

 

 

Beth PaulsonBeth Paulson lives in southwestern Colorado where she leads the Poetica Workshop and co-directs the Open Bard Literary Series. Her poems have been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and her fifth collection is Immensity (Kelsay Books, 2016).

Header photo courtesy Shutterstock.

Terrain.org is the world’s first online journal of place, publishing a rich mix of literature, artwork, case studies, and more since 1997.