A fox has every right
to be enamoured by the daffodil
that sweet aroma kissed by bees
and drenched in dew
of course she will
recount those heady days
when blooms from long ago
did captivate
all foxes sense the wild aroma’s
that old nature doth create
A fox can rub herself upon
a silver birch and cure an itch
a tangled branch a bush of thorns
a bank of bluebells who can pitch
their collective romance through
the forest and all around the place
the wild folk love the flowers
that give the forest so much grace
they love the gentle perfumes
that curl up through the trees
and hang in heartfelt cushions
made softer by the breeze