Dipping into my poetry once again, I have had the pleasure to have a number of sonnets published over the years. Here is one that I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to share this post but the work is protected by copyright and should not be copied and reproduced away from this blog.
The fox cub
A winter’s tale of lengthened, darkened nights,
Of leafless, lifeless branches now laid bare,
Of fog that hangs on dank and frosty air,
Of northern, howling, bitter wind that bites.
A wounded fox cub, trapped, still breathing fights,
To free his hind leg, bleeding, from the snare,
He longs for warmth and comfort of his lair,
Below the hillside’s lofty, misty heights.
A quickened heart, when hearing footsteps tread,
Across the leaves from autumn, on the ground,
There stands a child, thank God, and not a man.
She bends to free him, tender strokes his head,
Takes off her sock and gently wraps it round,
His bleeding leg to mend it best she can.
© Rosemary J. Kind