Fox Face an enigma

Fox face
its a fox
a hundred or so
there
they are
staring, from the patterning
a creation from afar
and clinging in a warm embrace
to the goddess who believes
that Fleetwood Mac
and Stevie Hicks
could come back
will those once flowing
sleeves

foxes get a horrid time
in Britain
from the hunting crowd
those red coated clowns
who ride across the countryside
“Tally Ho” and all that crap
up the hills and around and around
the Downs
where’s there to hide?
the poor fox, and his vixen sigh
in the hole his cubs may die
lying panting on the ground
trying not to make a sound
paying homage to Brer fox
the goddess wears her unique socks
and leggings
fox face
leggings, she
knows a lot
and wants to see
the countryside
blessed peacefully
not over run with cruelty
Good on her, I say, from the heart
too many foxes get no start
they’re over run and torn apart
by hungry hounds who dip and dart
dip and dart that’s all they do
yelp and yap and tear into
a helpless soul whose needs are great
who never will retaliate