Fox fluff

I’m a quiet, red fox,
on rooted twists of a tree,
conceal we do, happily.

Are you? Well, I’m trampled
moss haiku, dry, that’s me,
please, Mr fox, tread carefully.

Moss, you may complain,
but you’re good comfort
in a Japanese terrain.

Oh, Mr fox, while we’re at it,
you dislodged my blossom,
though an old tree, I still feel it.

Blossom, I followed my nose,
and moss, you aren’t quite haiku,
of that the wind knows.


3 thoughts on “Fox fluff

  1. nectarfizz says:

    Your mind has corridors never traveled doesn’t it?

  2. nectarfizz says:

    ps..that was a compliment..honest.

  3. Matt says:

    I like those corridors, and the doors that spring off them 🙂

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