Living the story is a blessing and a mess,
But the Fox unstuck from rox is a fairietale at best.
So in the springtime soot
with meadows wet and warm
Off trot the fox past vision
Into a peaceful storm.

Past the brush
And the meadowlarks
And the warm-horns,
Past the bush
Is a world
Mystery-deep
With a diamond stream,
Surely rush!

&
For the reef
In silent deep
Did not pad between white bone,
The box around the fox
was left for a real home.
,
& now we've seen it, in a glimpse
Right where you look, at your attention
Yet a fox, run to new realms
is something, by law,
You should never mention.