Outside this window #15

Outside this window is a moss topped brick wall buried beneath bottle green vine. A couple of months ago a juvenile fox stood on this wall, his earthy orange eyes staring up at this orange haired woman on the second floor, with a look so still his eyes became headlamps and mine became a doe’s; as if he knew before I did that I’d moved the camera away from the bedroom window after the Easter storm. He watched my mouth whisper swear words as I inched closer to the window, to inch closer to him. This adventurous young fox walking the back wall dividing victorian houses could never be captured through a camera lens — but man, I wanted the chance. Instead he captured me. The surprise of seeing each other without a third party, without exlamation, without the need to better the moment, without the loud shutter release startling us meant we were under the spell of those amber eyes sharing the same still curiosity. We gently let each other go for no other reason than to continue with our day. Outside this window is the wall my eyes happened upon while I was making the bed, and a fox leapt up and into my morning, transforming the day into a quiet satisfying secret.