Fox Confessor

Once upon a time, on the coldest day of the year,
a little red fox sat on the snow.
Before him, at the edge of a grove of frozen trees,
was a black-haired woman with the darkest, most bewitching eyes
that the fox had ever seen.

"I have black tea," called the fox,
"and I have black bread.
Come share them with me,
or you will soon be dead."

The woman at the edge of the grove
of frozen trees waved her hand,
and the sun, already weak, began to melt
right into her hand.
"What good is your tea," she asked the fox,
"without company?
What good is your loaf
without butter fresh and sweet?"

"I have fur," called the fox,
"and a sable blanket on my burrow bed.
Come share them with me,
Or you will soon be dead."

"Perhaps you are right," sighed the one so dusky and fair.
"Come here and I will tell you a secret;
Be quick, for it is the coldest day of the year...
I cannot walk and can no longer move,
But I will share this butter for your bread
and tell my secret in your ear."

Very slowly, the little fox came close,
with the tiniest steps and the most hesitant tread.
The fox meant to have both butter and bread,
And tea and secret, before the lady was dead.

The woman at the edge
of the grove of frozen trees implored,
"Come faster, dear fox,
come close, let us talk,
For I have but a single breath more."
Never confess to a fox, they say,
but more important than that,
Never trust a lady whose secret desires 
are tea, a loaf,
and a new fox fur hat.
______


My little poem has as its inspirations, the top photograph by Richard Schear and the Russian folk tale of the Fox Confessor. In the tale, a fox tries to talk a rooster down from a tree by pretending to be concerned for the rooster's soul. "Come confess to me," urges the fox, who only wants to eat the rooster.