Poem 604 – Reynard’s Children

Two pairs of black tipped ears peak over
the sun-bleached grass. Alert they twitch,
then gallop, gambol, giddily roll,
over and over, intoxicated.

This frenzy of rolling frollicking ends
a heap of writhing rusty yelps.
Beneath lies Reynard, dutifully watching,
made weary by new life’s first breaths.

The highlight of today? Two handsome fox cubs playing in the garden.
(23.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Poem 209 – River Reynard

The early morn.
Two foxes sprinting
fluid and fast.
Coursing the street
their game of tag
washes its banks.

4am. I’m up early to catch a plane, walking to the local train station. In my peripheral vision I spot a red blur. Two foxes with more energy than me fly past.
(06.10.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Wen Zhu on Unsplash