a tall fox appears
in the garden’s night shadow
he stops – sits – alert
cautious from a safe distance
we eye each other
he triggers my cunning child
buried long ago
since grownups detest smartness
even hunt their kind
yet through our meshed lineage
recognition plays
in the nimbus between us
we affirm being
and our shape shifting stories
Next day I strung up my little hammock near that magic spot, with different views: 
Mostly, during these surreal lock down days, I sigh and groan a lot, bewildered by hilarious media stories and the never ending blame games, which, given people are bored, have gained major entertainment value – and this from my perspective of not having watched TV for years.
Keep sane my friends.
