Sausages for the Foxes

Seven chimes from the liberty bell
Shed the shackles from labor, work and chores,
Sending us all indoors.
Henrietta and Josephine cluck their way back to the coop,
The younger boys race inside for fresh bread, salted butter
And Mum’s cream of tomato soup.
Jubilant moths begin their tango with hanging lightbulbs
As the last of the day has rolled out and the night has signed in.

It’s those men and women who breathe life to the poppy fields
When they stand on the shamrock hills, flapping bed cloths,
Curtains and blankets,
I used to think.
It made every branch dance, spun every weathervane,
Swayed every sunflower
Before they tucked themselves in.

People could do that, their actions wave and ripple to others,
Bringing the milk to our doorsteps and the post to our mailboxes.
Cheese for the dormice,
Sausages for the foxes.

It’s nice, to think it once existed
In mind or memory.
Clear skies and warm air,
I’ll meet you there.


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