Red Fox (to My Poems)

Vulpes vulpes, with your

little black nose,

your anxious eyes,

darting,

your den, under leaves

once red,

are ochre, burnt umber, and blowing away

in the air

of wet earth and maple smoke exhaled.

My palms,

holding ash

up to my fingertips, cool to the touch,

warm with a flame I cannot fan,

everything dying, like this.

But I’ll find you,

sometime October,

under the chestnut tree

wagging your tail,

Vulpes vulpes,

for me.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

It seems I am too busy for poetry right now.  But sometimes, she finds me.

Jack O' Lantern Soup

Dancing squirrels

have taken note

of the pre-Thanksgiving

feast—

as windblown leaves,

soggy,

like fresh strips

of paper-mâché,

are stuck to everything

in sight—across our lawn, the path to our door.

I wonder, what would they think

if I sprinkled some Sriracha

or pepper-apple chutney

on top

of the jack o’ lantern soup

sitting

on our front porch,

rainwater

filling up

to the smile?

I prefer mine

with sour cream

and a little kick:

a half sandwich,

toasted

with lots

of pepperoncinis.

Do you think

they would mind

sharing

if I brought

and topped

it

with roasted

pepitas

and a caramelized pecan

or two?

I bet Beatrix would know.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse Poetics: Food for Thought

Note: I made pumpkin soup for the first time last year.  Soo good.