She has those glimmery eyes, you know. We are all acquainted with her glimmery eyes, those mysterious glints come through the many windows that she steps through.
She shifts and we lose her, but we know she is still there. We know from the feel, prickling on our skin. We know from the whispers sifting through our spindle.
She moves and we don’t notice, for she is sly. She comes when she wants to and and where she goes, we do not know. She is free. She passes through the most impossible of barriers. She walks right through, bringing us with only a touch, a lick on the cheek, a nip on the shoulder.
Come to me, my fox. Bring me into your mysteries. Bring me out of this into that. Sift through the mysteries and lead me to void. Lead me to rabbits, to chickens, to grapes hanging so sweetly right out of reach. Let me watch your leap. I feel your pelt brush against my skin as we pass, we pass through, into the oblivion of sense which makes sense in the multiple perspective of scents and gobbling.