HOSPITALITY

Some nights
there are foxes in my backyard
running back and forth, jumping
onto the roof, seemingly enjoying
themselves.  I call it playing.
I wonder, if I slipped outside
slowly enough
under the full moon
would they let me play with them?

Would they freeze and watch me?
Would they snarl?
Would they suddenly disappear
like water into sand?

I know not where their home is.
I have not invited them to mine.
They come anyway.
I call that
being neighborly.				

	
		Lucille Murphy