The fox walks alone, I've been navigating the forests since I was little, I know every inch and where every leaf will fall, exploring the gray twilight and outer dusk, the old mud church walls and yellowing dust of an ancient village, a canoe carved from a red oak, the boneyard and graves of warriors past, their metal shields and dented helmets rusting under each shard of sunlight piercing the blanketing canopy, a canopy of trees overhead, a strange umbrella of flowers on the ceiling, little red monkeys playing, and brightly lit snakes entwined among the yellowed and dying brown ivy, the pink and blue splotches of fat blooms and Emmy orchids, the eternal white of chalky funeral flowers, I have big eyes, puppy feet and shark teeth, I'm nimble, I cannot be found when I don't want to be found.