Charity and the Fox

One morning a fox was found dead
outstretched on the grass
in the park near the church
where we like to walk in fine weather

The fox was as still as the moth-eaten stole
in the charity box of discarded toys
a box in the dark in a corner forgotten
by time and tied up to go to the tip

And the flies were arriving and landing
and looking and flying away
and returning with tentative touches
in the curious fashion of flies.