Flowers
 
Wild Angel
My angel is undoubtedly
The strangest of the kind
At times, she flies before me
And then she stays behind

She always seems to follow
Her own rules and laws
Her waters are so shallow
Her sea is like the claws

Of the young fox whose shyness
Will never show again
After his first prey's blindness
Has washed him like the rain

Taking away his innocence
Laughing at his wild heart
Whose scream is reduced to silence
And silent of whose prey's the heart.

Fox Cornell (December 27th 1997)
 
 
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