the fox’s call

an old fox leaps into my mind
rummaging through the dusty box
of my brain – finds a grain or two of
sunshine and a marble bag full of pain
spilling them out, they roll across
the ground, he counted them on his
whiskers and claws, calculating,
drafting up the reasons for the turmoil
brooding inside my crown
and then just as quickly as he hopped inside,
he slipped outside and slinked against
the walls, asking me if i understood
why he dropped in and called out my name
and i answered yes – it’s just all part
of his clever little game to remind
me to step out of the box and into the rain
from time to time, so that time won’t
find the time to waste on the pain
or a place to reside

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