The Marshfield Fox

Across the dew covered sedge
We squeaked our way to a form-
A reddish form- perceived beyond
The growth of nearby rushes.

Where siskins sang from various
Bushes at the bottom of a brae
As we traversed a frog-spawned
Surface.

We were but kids as free as the clouds
Above...the Marshfield then was an Eden
For us but sometimes I think that after our
Demise it will be a heavenly abode or at
Least our ghosts will traverse its acres.

However, our interest, then, was a dead fox
Shot overnight by someone who removed
Its tongue in pursuit of cash, a young fox-
A vixen, filling me with sadness which
Brought me to tears...an experience
Still vivid across the passage of
Seventy plus years.
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Liam Ó Comáin

An Irish poet now living in Derry City but originally from Limavady in County Derry in the north of the Island. more…

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"The Marshfield Fox" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 25 Mar. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/44607/the-marshfield-fox>.

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