Eleven o'clock fox

11 o’clock fox

Tripped across the light-stained tarmac

Eyed me up with nonchalance

With left paw paused mid-air

Derogatory sniff

Detected after-shave, a glass of red

The heavy pall of diesel fumes

A light dash of adrenaline

Cocky tilt of head

Dared me to contest

Who had the right to be there

Then shadow-flitted through the fence

Along the sleepy track

Thursday’s final train

Chuntered on the crossing

As it laboured back to Hull

Passengers oblivious

Did not peer or strain

To see him dance along the sleepers

Careless of their late commotion

I clutched my bottled prize

And my folder full of poems

Silently I barked, “Goodnight!”

And wished the raider well

From yellow pool to yellow pool

I headed homeward light of step

Privileged to share the night

With 11 o’clock fox

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