The Soul Forgotten

The auburn sky,
with wisps of thin milk clouds
scattered.
The wind whispers
secrets of Nature.
Yet,
He prances and dashes,
with not a care.
Fox chases his own
fluffy bushy tail.
A yelp.
The four legs
moving without a shadow,
under the shade
of the century old growth.
Fox runs and runs,
forsaken by his pack,
but He no longer minds,
He is the forgotten.
Fox runs.