A poem.

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    Three foxes are seen in the back garden of a residential property in north London.
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Sure I get tired of being stepped on

but mostly I say, Go ahead, friends,

take a seat why don’t you

lie down and relax. Stare up

at the sky. Ignore

those moist patches

on the back of your pants.

Now try standing all together

with everyone you know

and everyone they know,

shoulder to shoulder,

arm in arm. Forget about going

anywhere. Instead wait

for the sun to surprise you

and the moon to remind you

of the passage of time.

Let the ants do their intricate work

while robins fish for worms

and foxes fool rabbits.

Let the wind blow right through you.

Don’t be afraid to bend and wave.


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