Fox and His Folk

There in the holler below hid a fox with his folk; 
They had found shelter from the snow.

The youngest one cried, “Take us back to the valley! When we were there, we could still see our enemies!”

 

The fox cried, “Oh! Wish I could end this sorrow, wipe the blood from your coat, fill your boots up with hope!
Just know: this all could end tomorrow. There’s a chance that it won’t — but we won’t be alone.”

 

For shame! Why should we cower beneath? Have we not wit and our teeth? We would not go down so easily!
My dear, we’ve barely stopped bleeding. How would we fare,  fighting the horrors never seen?

 

Oh, wish I could end this sorrow, wipe the blood from your coat, fill your boots up with hope!
Just know: this all could end tomorrow. Though it probably won’t. But we won’t be alone.

 

Snow keeps falling. Footprints scrawl our names.
Caterwauling. Our voices sound the same.

 

Oh, wish I could end this sorrow, wipe the blood from your coat, fill your boots up with hope!
Just know: this all could end tomorrow. No, it probably won’t. But we won’t be alone.

Oh, wish I could end this sorrow, wipe the blood from your coat, fill your boots up with hope!
Just know: if we don’t see tomorrow. Know I loved you the most. And we won’t be alone.

 

© 2015 Drover Shy.  All rights reserved. 

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