a fox story.

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a couple nights ago. 

driving to work. 

in the dark. 

the light of stars and a full moon overhead. 

there on the side of the road, watching for the perfect moment to cross to the other side, 

there, in waiting: 

a small red fox. 

my heart leapt. 

my breath gasp'd. 

my totem. 

one night, years ago, driving to work. pensing and pondering and praying, 

none of it out loud, none of it spoken to where another human could hear it. 

but still, my creator heard my supplication. 

give me a sign.

and, then. there on the side of the road. 

a momma fox with a kill hanging from her jowls, standing there, most likely startled by traffic on the road. 
i was sure she was headed homeward to feed her hungry waiting kits.

she was thinner "around" than was the diameter of her fluffy foxtail. 

i looked at her and said "pencilfox." 

at that point, i pulled over and stopped my truck. 

i sat there. in the quiet. in the moment. in the midst of gratitude. 

there was my sign. 

and so, from that moment on, 

pencilfox has been my sobriquet, my penname, my non de plume. 

life is so good for this pencilfox.

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