Walking the
street,
canvassing
his territory,
beating the
bounds,
the urban
fox
declared
his province
last night.
His bark
carried down the road
not like a
loud-hailing politician
but a
self-proclaimed king.
It was
a lonely bark,walking down the white line
of this quiet road:
tonight there
was no echo,
no return
call from his mate,
no
retaliatory rant
from his
neighbour.
The occasional break in the cloud
advertised his presence
to enquiring evening eyes
peering through curtains.
The cats are quiet tonight
their evening masquerades
silenced by expediency.
Good night fox,
beware the rampant taxi -
the mechanical creatures
of the night.
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