Two fox poems and some email love and support

I am up in the night because my pain in the butt hurts too much to sleep.

I just received this nice note from my friend Pam, which while it doesn't take the pain away or help me sleep, it does help my heart:

Your pain is unfair --and dreadful. May the procedure go well, and act faster and more swiftly than anticipated.

In spite of it all, you add to the world's beauty, with an artist's eye and hand, and your courageous spirit that keeps rising every time it's smacked down.

You are loved and admired.

Mary is one very intelligent, brave, beautiful person, with talent and gifts. May this current curse be the last one you have to endure before the blessings rain upon you



 Discovery in Dappled Lightt

Inside the edge of the trees
of a forest Mom forbade me to visit,
past the fences and hedgerows
behind our house, down over the edge
of the dirt cliff, out beyond Dzot’s pond,
too far from home for easy walking,
too far for mother’s whistle to call me home,
I found a fox.
It was dead, its body
already blending into leaves and litter,
it’s gold red fur still shining
in the dappled light,
belonging dead as it did alive
to this wild place which now
was peopled for me with new elusive faces.

Mary Stebbins Taitt
For Sara, Erin and Lisa Spanfelner 130521-1342-3a


Apparition in the Morning Bog 

A steady squish squish of footsteps
approaches through the bog and I turn
toward the sound to see an animal,
like a small dog, trotting toward me
through the larches and tall ferns.
A baby muskrat hangs limp
from its mouth. A fox! It shines
in the sun like a copper kettle,
covered with a million hairs,
each one individually radiant. Eyes
observe, clear and calm, from within
the blackest face. Held by water
and a little mud, hairs to cling
to lean dark legs. A bush of tail curls
behind. Without hesitation, the fox
steps lightly onto the boardwalk
directly in front of me, trots across,
leaves a perfect line of perfect prints,
hops down, and disappears silently
into the cedars. After a moment’s awe,
I remember the old Nikon I clutch,
pressed against my body, cocked
and ready. Though I forgot the camera,
I captured the fox, sharp and bright
on the emulsion of my inner eye.

Mary Stebbins Taitt

(I had a terrible time with the formatting of this post!  Sorry!)