by Theodora Goss
Deep in the ferns they are creeping, their sweeping
tails setting swaying the ferns as they crawl,
little red foxes, an army of redcoats,
elegant-eared and cunningly small,
like rubies half-hid by a billowing shawl.
Deep in the ferns underneath the green forest,
on slender white ankles, with button-black eyes,
they swarm, and we catch just a glimpse in the half-light,
and hear through the thicket the witty wild cries
of those delicate, flashing, sanguineous spies.
(The print is by Ohara Koson. This poem was published in my poetry collection Songs for Ophelia.)