This is how the fox disposes of his fleas –
Gathering a beard of sheepwool from barbed wire
And pausing all the while
He saunters to the stream
Fleas sense something novel
Entitlement insists an exploration
A luxurious transition –
Surely blood and meat enough persist
Beneath this new abundance of fine hair?
The fox pads softly backwards into water
When he stands dead-centre of the stream
He yawns then wags his jaw
Fleece and fleas released into the current
Time is a soundless stream
The world’s concerns entice
To tangle and to follow –
Step lightly through it all
.
Bernard Saint
Montage: Claire Palmer
.