On Meeting A Fox - Poem by John Molloy
Standing, staring, glaring true
and contemplating what to do,
a fox and I on Parnell's hill
took to stand a moment still;
When thirty feet a trench became
a dormant street to frosty claim,
of city sleeping, time to creep
of city silent, time to keep
a minute glance, just, almost
deciding who's the real host.
Before a blink to say farewell,
our paths became a tale to dwell.
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