Monday, 2 June 2025

Red mist in a fox

You will not catch her,

You were never meant to.

She waves between the winds

like red smoke,

carrying the scent of dusk

and danger.

A fox is not a question,

but the answer that refuses to explain. 

A ripple of flame

in the still pond of night.

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Red mist in a fox

You will not catch her, You were never meant to. She waves between the winds like red smoke, carrying the scent of dusk and danger. A fox is...