When foxes call at night

In the distance, when foxes call at night, I would hide under the bed clothes

I’d make the world disappear save for some fingers, head and nose.

The steady march of my father off to bed the floor boards played the same song each night

Until the march became a shuffle and his life became a fight


Some sounds went all un-noticed like the days, the weeks, the life

Thousands of days become pressed into thoughts, work, children, Europe, wife

But then the years can’t hold back everything try as memory might

Hold back thoughts of wheat fields in the distance, when foxes call at night.



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