Sunday, May 13, 2012

THE GRASS THE FOX THE RABBIT

  I'm watching Ben mow the grass and while I watch I'm imagining him as a pen and ink drawing of himself mowing the grass. His tall figure moving up the green and pushing the lawnmower, with its interesting sturdy and utilitarian lines would make a lovely study in pen and ink. Except I cannot draw.

I notice the creases and shadows of his shorts and shirt, the little creased v's in the back - the shape of his legs and calf muscles, and also his baseball cap.  The growl of the lawnmower recedes and returns.  And somehow imagining him as a line drawing makes the picture more appealing to me.

Of course, when the mower stops it's a lot more peaceful, because in the silence you hear all the birds.

This morning the fox came around.  I think she's a vixen and has been quite bold lately in the early mornings, trotting round the edges of the grass, probably searching for rabbits.  She's a red fox with a white tip to her tail, an alert triangularity to her face.  I'm glad the dog is indoors, though, when she's out there.

She even stopped to pee.  We've heard her unearthly cry in the night several times this week. You feel the neighborhood tighten round her cry, as if sleepers are wakened in all the houses at once, and all are thinking the same thing:  there's the fox.

There is also a particular rabbit who always ventures from under the photinium bush.  I feel it to be the same rabbit each time, but logic would suggest there are many more than one, but that only one comes out at a time.

I'm watching him now; the contraction and expansion of the body as he hops forwards in the clover; the suggestion from this distance of his head, with ears alert.

He's out there now because the lawn mowing has stopped.  I do hope he doesn't get eaten by the fox.  I hope we can all get along and live together in peace. But my hope is entirely irrelevant.

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