From Breathworks

Out of the doldrums
of overheated rooms,
passion startles me.

A vixen, ruddy as the dawn sky,
is chased by her long-tailed mate,
over the crust of snow,
their arcs around the barn
visible from my bedroom.

On rump and hind legs,
the foxes slide
across the frozen length of pond,
Without a backward glance, she scrambles
up the bank, wends her way
through dry cattail tips
scattering crows before her.

He leaps,
projectile in a spray of snow,
sprints like a dancer
in stylised pursuit.
Around house and barn, unwearying, they race
back to pond
to skim the ice again and again
on their bright fur.

All of my morning woes
fly out
into this wild love at daybreak,
into this fiery joy
streaking across white fields.