Isolation

A poem about a red fox and a woman.

 

Isolation

 

 

A huge field covered with clear white snow. A red fox runs through

This place of silence. The red fox sniffs the ground every few

Yards. The red fox leaves paw prints in the deep soft snow,

Nothing moves, nothing makes a sound, the field

Is flat and has no life form. The red fox continues

To smell its way across the frizzing stillness

Of the land. The red fox stops suddenly!

An object is protruding out of the snow.

The red fox smells it and then it lies

Down next to the object.

Protruding out of the

Snow is a women’s

Hand with a gold

 Ring on her

Pale third

Finger.

 

 ©LukeRitta

Reviews

[Nath]

I loved the contrast between the loneliness and death on the one hand ("Nothing moves, nothing makes a sound, the field Is flat and has no life form.") and the running fox, a living, stirring creature in the solitude on the other.
Beautifully written.

Purity in Simplicity the two words I love in real live. Great Job! ;)

[Stef Outsiders]

Wow a vivd picture there, i love the format and structure, it is smooth..well done

[Muse]

This makes for a good campfire story. Very Edgar Allen Poe. Well penned!

[Raven Starhawk]

I can honestly imagine this as I read. It has a nature about it that compels me and really holds me to every detail. As I finish I am in a way speechless though thoughts race through my head.

[Lily Mae]

I feel like the woman died within the cold abyss of marriage.. The fox is a seeker...very sly and it makes me wonder was he seeking her out or just foraging for prey? Interesting write :) xx

[Amanda Buscemi]

The simplicity of this story is beautiful. Every line has purpose, and so comes across sharply. I found myself holding my breathe until I got to the end...which is where I felt the isolation. The imagery you paint is beautiful. I want to read more!

[Miss Marie Riorden.]

I love the form of this. How it gets smaller by one word each line you go through. The story indeed is somewhat sad, but it also has the ring of finality.
I think the saddest fact of it all was the ring on her finger. She was going to get married eh?

-Marie

[Christina May Shanaberg]

Your lovely poem speaks volumes about peacefulness of death. I died, once, during an asthma attack and returned to consciousness hours later from what seemed like a very peaceful place. I think, even animals, understand the finality of death. A very well written and beautiful piece!