Foxes have returned,
To their deep dens,
And when the clouds,
Cover the mountain,
Soon, the wandering lantern,
May as well go home,
Not a soul on the streets,
In the dreaming time gloom,
But noises, and footsteps,
Coughing coats and fires,
In metal bins with holes in,
And the mice, who never sleep,
But when there is something to keep,
With one eye open.
Rowan Blair Colver