On Being a Fox

— Leslie Hoffman

You call me Red Fox
but I would still be a fox
if my coat were grey.
Does not the Grey Fox
eat what I eat,
drink what I drink?

Look into my golden eyes
and tell me if you can see
into my heart, into my soul.
You may no longer wear
my fur around your neck
or as a muff to warm your hands,
but you still train your dogs
to chase my kind into a tree
for your amusement.

Like you did my mate
carrying my pup
whose blood ran red
the same as yours
before being born.

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