RACING THE NORTH WIND
 
The fox sits silent
Surveying the incoming storm.
The White flurry
furious at the light
Hungers for his sanctuary.
Luckily, he is blessed with speed and wit.
With great haste
He dives into the dark of his woods
The trees towering above
Draw their branches together
As the snow pounds against their trunks
The fox turns and dances on his hind legs

Laughing at the White.

He turns and runs again
Disappearing into a tunnel of darkness that swallows him whole and complete.

photo - John Fiorucci

words - Cail

(Source: nevver)