The fox forages on the open field,
eyes turned from the glare of sunlight,
black clouds swirling ahead.
He digs through the furrows,
hoping treasure lies beneath his paws
while rooks shadow him from the hedges.
White tail-tip swishing behind him,
the fox spots something emerging
from the hedgerows, scattering the rooks.
Short and barrel-shaped, lolling tongue,
wide face and button nose,
the bulldog tumbles out of the leaves.
Never has the sharp-nosed fox
seen something so ungainly
as the bewildered beast before him.
As the bulldog approaches, smiling,
the fox appears to cough, then chuckle,
and the rooks watch on from the hedges.
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