The place where the fox lives

the place where the fox lives

orange seeds lie around like teeth, flakes of meat hold onto cherry bones

in the darkness of its thoughts it knows, when joy visits here it seems it will remain forever
when the fox cries, it cries for everyone

disentangling itself from grass and fog, the fox finds itself praying in front of the mirror, wide-eyed darkened face
hair tied back, the purity of the worn-out

it can still hear the sound of leaves under its energetic steps through the vineyard

the earth will be frozen soon and the birds will have left

for a moment, it desires comfort and its body aches for forgiveness
it wishes to let the old souls go, it wishes to tidy up the place