The tracks of the fox are faint—
it’s a wisp of an animal, mostly fur
and the smell of musk and dirt

from the den created in our field.
I could measure the distance
between our homes, our

fragile bones. I sit on the deck,
with a cup of steaming tea, wait
for them to emerge—

there are three kits—five in all—
a skulk or leash they’re called.
I call them lovely,

the way the new sun glints
against their shiny coats,
red and blonde and brown

together—one
color trotting
to the pond.

Sarah Dickenson Snyder has full-length collection of poetry, The Human Contract, from Aldrich Press, and her chapbook, Notes from a Nomad, from Finishing Line Press is forthcoming in March of 2017. She was a 30/30 Poet for Tupelo Press.