Fox on the Dock in Vermont’s Early April
She called to say the dogs took over the night,
four outrages barking at doors and scratching windows.
When all four agree, even the old deaf one,
the marrieds rise out of bed and look to the pond, solid
ice for fox footprints to carry across to the other side
from the dock pulled up high for winter’s storms.
After the night alarm, just this, rabbit fur in the gold grass,
eastern cottontails that drift up from the south,
the ones who gnaw blueberry bushes
and rosa vergosa if spring should ever come.