On the window sill
unexpectedly awake,
waiting for foxes
to amble accross the lawn
at stillness of night,
apparently dead
so as not to disturb
their antics, each spine
peaked as a cat’s
alert whisker.
By lukewarm English day,
praying, scoffing
at the fading sun,
imagining it was
in the baking desert
listening to the adventures
of travelled camels,
and wishing
it was rechristened
as something a bit cooler.
Life can be really un-fur.
