Are you ready? Come on along and read some homespun poetry as well as a jot and tittle regarding distinguished poets and their works. Gael offers a positive balance of her own nostalgia notes and poetic meanderings with those of others. [Editor's note: Gael no longer contributes to Silver Planet, but we have made her archived blog entries available as a service to our readers.]
The barking was urgent—incessantly annoying. What could be happening at the bottom of my long dirt driveway to cause such a ruckus? The two 70-pound beasts, big dogs, romantically named Spencer and Kate, dared not cross the invisible fence boundary. They did, of course, challenge their buzzing collars (the warning they are too close) as skillfully as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers.
Hushing them, I walked slowly down the drive and saw movement from behind a large rock. Slyly peeking out from a leaf-covered den were three adorable bundles of fox fur. Bright eyes set in perky faces, punctuated with a raisin button in the center, stared back at me. Their mother (correctly, the vixen) appeared, dancing nervously, daring me to chase her. I was aware this is a deterrent foxy moms use to get attention away from their kits.
I thought I would share a delightful “foxy” thought in a poem by Indian-British author Ruskin Bond. Bond’s short poems about the natural elements are very beautiful, and I believe this particular poem appealed to me because I see foxes in the moonlight regularly roaming and hunting on my property. Now, however, I am newly aware that they are gracefully dancing in the night they rightly own—after all, life is a dance—even for foxes!
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Lone Fox Dancing
(Ruskin Bond, 1934–)
As I walked home last night |
NOTE: Ruskin Bond lives in the Himalayan Mountains of India and is well known for his poetry, fiction, and weekly English-language columns in leading Indian newspapers. He has written charmingly for children and produced many short stories and novels.
Bond’s first book, The Room on the Roof, is about a runaway Anglo-Indian boy named Rusty. It is filled with adventure and glimpses of nature—as are subsequent books about Rusty’s adventures.
By Gael Stuart
The Silver Sage Blog
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