The Quick Red Fox

She locked him in step,
Tripping over the laces
And the tongues of his shoes,
His mind stammering
For a verb, a noun… his name.
Her eyes would widen,
Wedgwood, cool,
Scintillant, twinkling with interest,
Seeming to stir the light,
Into a storm of invitations.

He caught her in stride,
All legs and blush,
A doe in a focused heat,
A key seeking a lock.
A quick red fox
Scattering the cocks,
Sniffing her prey.
Her strawberry tress
Tossed in a flourish
To the beat of each cheek…
Off the flick of her tail.