The weather is beautiful for foxes:
a fiercely sunny Saturday in the Cotswolds.
This moneyed city folks' favorite retreat
stretches out along clumps of red hawthorn berries.
Here, the rose-rambled houses cast shadows across the land.
Here, a stone-walled cottage emerges below a hill every
few miles.

Country-dwelling girls chasing debonair chaps from London -
what wonder of thickened air
and sexual tension
the adulterous affairs of
beloved sons and daughters.
Landed gentry mix with wide-eyed farmer maids.
What a pity to see
mammals chasing mammals.

A light-hearted ritual
trampled and bashed by the kicking pony
and killer bloodhounds dropped over with tails in vertigo.
Under the cover of yellow corn,
England's cult on sprawling legs and lawns.
Only one black jacketed hunter shoots between nips and port.