Page 74 - April 2021
P. 74

The Fox by the Fence

          The  cold  night  greeted  me  like  an

          almost forgotten friend. The yard was
          almost  too  big,  too  open,  after  the

          closeness of the house.
          The  trees  whispered,  and  the  stars
          wheeled  above  as  I  settled  on  the

          cracked concrete.
          I  dug  my  toes  into  weedy  dirt  and

          breathed  the  salt  of  the  night,  my
          lungs growing.
          The moon, only a sliver, peeked from

          behind  fluffy  clouds,  providing  only
          enough brightness to see the edge of

          the  yard.  The  parkland  beyond  was
          buried in darkness.

          The  clamour  of  the  bush  woke  again
          as they got used to my being there, an

          intruder but not a threat. The tick of
          cicadas and the rumble of bandicoots
          in the undergrowth cocooned me.

          litterateur april                                       74
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