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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 2, June 2016


Mary Frederick Ahearn
Pottstown, Pennsylvania, USA


"The fox went out on a chilly night
prayed for the moon to give him light . . . "

Just before dawn, still half-asleep, I slipped out to gather the paper. There, under the spruce by the drive, was a fox. Thin, dark, winter-worn, he freezes at the sight of me. We regard one another silently, both aware of the sweetness of the early morning air, the scent of budding trees, and what's left of the night.

He is a small creature, wild, completely other, not one of our tribe. His eyes shine; I retreat back into the warmth, light, and smallness of the house.

crescent moon
her horns pointing east
the shape-shifting hour



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