Stephen Parrett

The White Fox

Your tale is long to tell,
As long as the river flows on,
Your coat is a blinding white,
As white as a lone star at night

You watch alone in the dark,
the trees, the fields the sky,
Only a deer disturbs the peace,
A soft rustle in the bracken.

A thin smoke drifts across the wind,
Conjuring memories of autumn,
Golden, burning leaves,

The black sky lights up red,
There are more deer now,
Running along untrodden paths,
You’ve seen this before.

Voices are shouting in the distance,
As the roar moves ever closer,
The stars become veiled with dense red smoke,
Thicker than any river mist you have seen.

The flames have arrived, licking at your feat,
For a while you glow the colour of your kind,
But the intensity of the heat is no match
for your cold home of stone.

The flames retreat into the night,
The last wisp of smoke is blown over the horizon,
Revealing the clear crisp sky,
The silence returns, you remain.

The white fox of Coppet hill

_________________________ ________________


Poem Submitted: Monday, March 14, 2005
Poem Edited: Monday, March 14, 2005

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Comments about The White Fox by Stephen Parrett

  • Steve Parrett (3/14/2005 8:46:00 PM)

    1 out of 10? ? ? Explain yourself!

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  • Steve Parrett (3/14/2005 5:52:00 PM)

    Cheers Rach very kind of you to say! :) xxx

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  • Rachel Cooper (3/14/2005 5:50:00 PM)

    Hi! !
    I really liked to way that the poem seems to reflect some sort change in nature, not only the fire but also the fact that all around the fox has changed but 'he' remains the same unchanged figure looking over it all.

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Read poems about / on: river, autumn, running, red, sky, star, silence, peace, home, wind, dark, alone, night, memory, tree