Fox, a poem by PD LYONS

We used to live by a lake in Westmeath, Ireland. Our house was down a dirt lane that  ended at the shore line. Occasionally the local Hunt would come through, dogs horses and riders hunting for fox. Our neighbour, in the pink house up on the hill, really did prohibit their hunting through his fields – we didn’t have any fields at the time but we did rather have sympathy for the fox.


wonder is a natural response to beauty

wonder is a natural response to beauty



here by the lake they have been trying to get rid of the fox
for hundreds of years
they have used traps
poison, dogs, guns, horses,
gas, shovels, all terrain vehicles
all manner of machine
and cruelty

the pink house on the hill
our neighbour
leaves food for them
prohibits trespassers
allows respite
vixen and cubs
a copse of furze and briar
never cleared

a dog fox sometimes visits
our back garden
our children delight
his untamed manner
arrogant inquisitive
as noticing us he sits up
cocks his head a brief hello
willing to risk an easy target
before with an ease only true natured creatures show –

we humans have shrunk our already short lives with fear
but not the fox
at the fence
he loiters for butterflies






up the lane

up the lane

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