Field Of Fox Poem by Christopher McNabb

What a simple mind has done.
Just can't see beyond their tongue.
Open their mouths and the truth is born.
All so lucky their thoughts don't swarm.

You just can't buy, shaman's tongue.
Let their smoke fill your lung.
To read the future all so clear.
To many variables for that my dear.

The future is a treasure we've yet to behold.
It is left for us to shape and mold.

You just can't buy, soothsayer's vision.
When they have fault in their own decision.
Our impending, each choice unlocks.
All just rabbit, in the field of fox.