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Elizabeth Smith
Pause and Breathe
As the sun sinks over Indian Peaks
fine flakes begin to sift through the trees
and my vision is softened by dwindling light.
Through a maze of Ponderosa pine
I catch glimpses of a ginger flare of tail
weaving its way across the hillside.
A red fox in his prime setting out
for the night. Behind my window
cradling a steaming mug, I know
I am just a blip in his vertical lenses
yet he arcs his slender snout
in my direction, his face
a medieval carnival mask backlit
by the amber flame in his eyes. We meet
in a moment outside of time, him with his need
to eat, me with my thoughts and tea
before he moves along.
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