Fox Cub by Connaire Kensit
Online - 15 June 2020
I saw this young fox in the garden
Right by the French windows, it stood
Ignoring my human eyes, three feet away,
Part-hid by my stack of spare wood.
So was it enjoying the sunshine?
It seemed to have no plans to move.
If it stayed still there observing the scene
Would its chances for hunting improve?
By the tree at the back of the garden
A movement attracted its eye.
It was time that it got up to forage,
For a fox without food will soon die.
It sauntered away from the window
Quite slowly, and not on four paws.
It held up its left front leg injured;
I have no way of knowing the cause.
And that was the last time I saw it.
Perhaps it fell prey to a crow
Or a dog or a cat or a weasel.
I wish there were some way to know.
Connaire Kensit, born 1940, is a retired lecturer in linguistic science. He has translated into English verse poems from various languages, as well as writing his own, one of which is printed here. He lives in Putney and is convenor of Putney Verse Workshop, a group founded in 2010.
Poem for the Day Fox Cub