le petit mort

An arctic fox
crouches
in the snow
paws like powder
ready for their foe
head tilts left
right
ears prick
stealthy mathematician
honing in on
scrambling whispers
burrowed geometrically
down below
in soil
rich deep
sleeping
prey begins to stir
and with
steady swift
leaping arc
the fox launches
parabolic
into the air
and graceful
crashes through
layers
of sun-crisped snow
snatches instantaneous
in affectionate jaws
tender prey
from beneath
oblivious grave
surrenders
letting go

three points of contact: body, mind, spirit