Outfoxed

How can you say
I’m smarter than the fox
when I spend my time
on someone else’s thoughts,
driving through the rush
to hurry up and sit
so I can buy the house
I need to sleep in
so I can get back
and forth to work?

The fox, I’ve noticed,
moves at her own pace,
contemplating, basking
on the sun-spilled log,
blinking upwards as
the warmth spreads
and I know that shiver,
that glorious peace
from someplace
just out of reach.

 


Day 5: write an intelligence poem


 

What do you think?

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