My scent ended at the river.
Pixie dust and fairy sparkles
(Pollen and fireflies)
made sure no one would find me here,

a waterfall of
fur
over my body,

tail coming through like a long, slender balloon
that slinked and slid through the water,

gravity pulling my
black-gloved
hands to the ground,

Ears pining past the bubbling brook,
rustling leaves,
paws snapping sticks.

(the scent of rabbit three miles to the east,)

Fear, a quick snap,
thoughts of my job,
my career,
my future, my loss, my worries, my expectations,
until my

Mind went quiet
and remote
I closed my eyes
and imagined
(Yes, this is what birth must be like)
as I stepped from river
and shook the water from my fur.

When a fox walks it drums on moss
tribal but tentative
the pawfalls bouncing quiet.
I kept the step of my kind.
The moon was out
and the trail was thin
and as I walked I could almost
imagine
that it was just me and the pebbles
hanging above a void
quiet,
serene,
happy for the first time in ages.

No. Nobody could find me here.