Gregory Fox

Gregory Fox

Urban as they come, never late

slinking through the slats in the closed gate.

Gregory, I have named him, looks towards me quizzically.

He is incredibly friendly

striding forwards, suddenly he stands before me

He jumps into the air and then sits waiting, bushy tail wagging expectantly.

He is wild, but he is young, and he is hungry, he has grey eyes that plead “feed me”

I have seen him before, I am prepared

I called to him once, weeks ago, he sensed no ill intent and he dared.

Tonight, I have food, chicken legs cooked earlier, left over

I place them down on the ground, beckoning to him

Hesitating for a brief moment, he starts his meal, a pleasure to feed this wild rover.

Looking up in my direction for a brief moment to see if he should share

no grace before meals, his gifted sustenance devoured in seconds,

bones too, nothing wasted, nothing left, just satisfaction, job done, a little dose of care.

I perceive gratitude as he turns away, speedily trotting. 

Disappearing through the gate into the dark street

accepting the task of avoiding those metal creatures

with their flashing lights that blind, whose voices roar and scream

a city dweller outside of his natural home, alone, adapting, surviving.

He will be back when again he is hungry

for he has discovered a source of food in me, my adopted wild fox Gregory.

Fr Patrick Brennan 2022 ©