Stained glass Fox

The Fox Beneath the Sun

Beneath a sun of amber gold,
where quiet colors bloom,
a fox has found a place to rest
inside the forest’s room.

The flowers lean like listening hearts,
the grasses softly sway,
and every pane of painted light
holds one more gentle day.

His tail is fire, his paws are earth,
his eyes are dusk and flame;
he carries all the woods within
and never asks their name.

Above him, scarlet blossoms burn,
while little wings take flight—
as if the world has gathered here
to keep him safe tonight.

And though the forest waits beyond
the glass, the wind, the rain,
he rests beneath the golden sun,
where nothing blooms in vain.

For even wild things need a place
where weary hearts can be,
and sometimes home is not a den—
but light, and leaves, and peace.