Can you see them?
Red and black muted blurs dart about the verdant thicket underbrush. You have to watch closely, as I have, to have a hope of catching a glance. My eyes are well trained, and my perked ears keen at detecting their movements. I watch again today, as I do everyday, the foxes romping amongst themselves – a sly grin plastered across each muzzle as they nip and pounce between slumber and the hunt.
My own frame and fur, large and like a backdrop of the woods respectively, I carry with humble pride; but it is with their fur and frame that I am infatuated. There is one that I watch above all others. One that is not so different from the rest, yet unique like is each. I can see in this one a deep beauty. It radiates and resonates from within him. Though others might miss such a beauty for the luster of his fur, I find it unmistakable.
To approach a fox is said to be folly, being well known as tricksters. One might lure you in, only to change forever, leaving you but a false memory of what may never have been at all. Putting scars past aside, I marshal my courage. I believe in this.
Finding him alone, I shed the shadows and startle him with my sudden presence. My paw pads are large and heavy, and his fleet feet instinctively parry an assault that never comes. We regard each other, nervous for our separate reasons, sheepishly sniffing each others scent. As our eyes connect – colors of sky and rugged earth – we see each other truly for the first time, and know.
Together we run, side by side, tails whipping in the wind behind us. It is exhilarating. I hope it lasts forever.