October

The world is a small red fox;
the light is a golden goose
laying eggs in the pumpkin patch.

The red fox moves through the grass.
He snuffles about in the wrinkled leaves
on the scent of the golden goose.

But the golden goose will drown in the night
of the deep black rains of November.
The little red fox will wither and starve,
his white bones will lie in the fields.