Rustic Fellow Poem by Matt Mooney

Rustic Fellow



A fox cub calmly crossed before me
And I brought my motor to a stop,
To respect a fox's daily right of way-
Bulldozed one day against his will.

Pulling in from the flow I saw him go.
He was naive and young and shy;
Stopping in his tracks, head high,
He stood there asking why of me.

It was a lingering look of blame
As far as the cover of the furze;
We had overun the private space
Of a wild and worthy rustic fellow.

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Matt Mooney

Matt Mooney

South Galway, Ireland.
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