And in the night I see the fox
whose secret scamper is a claim –
a lie really – that she isn’t real,
like sasquatch or chupacabra,
hiding in the shadows
but with a swift stealth
not even they could match,
and her soft, red coat
is a beauty that belongs
beyond the secrets of the night
and in a place to be admired,
but tell her that,
and I need to know,
would she believe the truth,
or scuttle off and cry?

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