When the weak light came, I locked the door behind me and called “Happy New Year!” to my neighbor, getting into her car, as I was into mine, to drive to work.
“I just saw a fox run across your yard and then behind the house!” she said.
“I know,” I replied, having divined it from her posture. “I’ve seen her, too!”
“Unusual for her to be out in the morning,” my neighbor said.
“It must be going to snow,” I said, knowing, as I said it, that it was true. That’s when she hunts in the daylight, my fox. I’ve been seeing her, on and off and off and on, for years. She’s how I know, to borrow from Mary Oliver, that I’m not just breathing a little: I really live here.
Picture found here.