Nearly to the end of Fort Lamar Road
I see the fox tilted downward
nose to the ground, a dark dirty brown.
Might be a stump. I circle & scan
as I pedal slowly back by — nothing.
I circle again, pedal even slower.
It’s not where I saw it first. There —
beside the driveway, a pair of ears
& eyes in tawny fur trained on me.
A large hare? I inch the bike back —
we both stare. Great head, pointy
chin. It turns, ambles, a thick white
flare at the tip of its long wavy tail.
This enclave — unimproved woods
next to the road, vast lawns with grand
houses next to the salt marsh, the sea
beyond — trace of what belongs here.
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