~ The Wizard of Wands ~ Jake’s Journal ~
~ Vixen ~ By ~ Jake Sweeny ~
Beneath a thick lick of balmy soup
I am reflecting in a moonbeam.
As I lie I try recalling lost lines,
Spoken earlier before this dream…
“So far solar to go,” I said,
“She never ceases her glide.”
“Upon great wings she flies in crystal skies
always travelling so far and wide.”
“An elevated flight,” added Master Scribe,
“One always flying into the Sun.”
“Only Eagles dare stare at Heaven’s flare,
without ever being undone.”
Selene presses her gaze infuses her haze,
Entices me into her trance.
And here I stay with my eyes all glazed,
My mind enchanted by romance.
When by my side a dark shadow I spied,
a flick of slick suddenly dive and dart.
Still lost in a dream I follow the gleam
with a rising pulse in my beating heart.
Through brush and bracken I push a path,
Passing between thickly trees.
Silently stepping stealthily pressing,
My passage tightly weaved and squeezed.
I pause to seize the scent of a passing breeze,
pleased to tweeze with expert ease
each aroma from night’s fragrant frieze
teasing my mind with sensualities.
An odorous lingering still subtly clinging
on the sweet edge of fernly taste.
Now turning right towards deeper night,
I track the smell with renewed haste.
Upon a clearing lazily dreaming
within pools of milk-white light.
At its centre I gaze curiously amazed,
Upon an dark creature of the night.
Caught in the stream of a single Moon beam
sits a flame of subdued red fire.
Poised and polished she’s purposefully paused,
to blaze in a moonbeam’s desire.
So fine is she this spectre of night,
this flaming spirit beneath moonlight.
Sitting elegant and regal her spiegel a beagle,
Her dogginess more felidae and weasel!
Her snout is tipped with a blackened nose
and sharp teeth set in pointed rows.
And cunning eyes such as I’ve never seen,
cast deep in jade and sparkling green.
When a quiver of wind moves brush and tail,
ripples the beast’s milky red fur.
She stays posed and composed completely still
as about her the forest stirs.
Bathed in soft balm sat perfectly calm
head held high and ears pricked.
She appears so proud but I see ‘neath her shroud,
When another’s eye would be easily tricked.
She is born a gypsy nomadically wandering,
a traveller knowing Bedouin ways.
Within her glaze lies a Bohemian’s gaze,
one of open roads endless days.
I snap a thin branch no more than a twig:
despite my weight being evenly splayed.
A loud crack cries out across the glade,
my cover now gone a mistake now made!
I froze in the freeze of a chilling look,
then hid deeper in dark vegetation.
Small beads of sweat peppered my brow,
I was now focus of this beast’s fixation!
Her deepening gaze probed my startled stare,
snared me between tall fir and bracken.
Her countenance changed a thin smile emerged,
and then her eyes began to blacken.
“Why hide from me Jake when I’m an all see,
one who knows my forest intimately.”
“Why follow me Jake why be torn from a dream,
if not to satisfy curiosity?”
“Come hither don’t dither dallying behind trees,
this glade and I are here to please.”
“Do you know about foxes about our ways?”
“This encounter brings the luckiest of days.”
I rose from cold folds of coiled twisted roots,
stepped into the enchanted glade.
“I was startled from my dream by a dashing gleam,
and into this glade I strayed.”
“And stayed and gazed at me!” said she.
“Have you not seen my like before?”
“Never,” said I, “with no word of a lie,
you’re the first fox I’ve seen in my yore.”
“The first you’ve seen? Are you quite sure?”
“I’ve clear memory of another time.”
“Do you once recall from behind a prison wall,
being led to freedom by a whine?”
“Might you remember my call my vixen howl,
my growl my cowl my cunning prowl.”
“Might you recount dogged days and wily ways
and dreams and schemes of getaways?”
I said “yes I remember my cell very well!
“I couldn’t bare the air of despair!”
“But you clever fox if you were really there,
why wasn’t I aware of your hidden stare?”
She smiled twirling gathering her tail,
hiding her face behind its veil.
“Jake,” said she, “come follow me,
“there is something I must reveal.”
I hesitated with indecision dogging at me,
should I stay or go or perhaps just flee?
Could I trust this creature who entices me?
Her cunning is a spell cast craftily!
“Yes,” I confirmed but was not so sure,
pausing recalling forgotten folk lore.
“Your fox,” said I, “I heard your sigh,
tracked your trail across the forest floor.”
“But before one step more I now implore,
an answer to appease and gratify.”
“Your track disappeared a long while ago.”
“Quite how did you do that?”
“Why Jake,” said she, “don’t you see?”
“I’m as elusive as Snowmelt your cat.”
“I bound lower boughs seek stonier ground
move with darkness always behind me.”
“I’m predator by night stealth in daylight,
I’m always a shadow you’ll never see.”
“I am your dark soliloquy,” said she merrily,
“A wily whisper in a pressing hour.”
“I am wild from within born knowing sin,
yet baring the scent of every wild flower.”
“I am a dance a trance a devious romance,
a sly and scheming quick mind.”
“I am craft and cunning and clever running,
and the underhand in a furtive find.”
“I am slanted candid shrewd astute,
I’m seldom heard you’d think me mute.”
“I am deceitful designing Machiavellian and thriving,
I am the vixen conniving your every striving!”
She paused to lick paws to fluff her tail,
then headed off following a darkly trail.
“So Jake,” I heard as she wailed her song,
“Are you now prepared to come along?”
Photography/Artwork by Dewin Nefol