[The following poem was submitted anonymously to the Art/Speaks project.]
On the painting “The Observed and the Observer”
by Jane Troup
The fox knew me.
He knew my scent, mood, and intent
before I ever saw his glowing, carrot fur.
I stood stone still watching
hoping to be unknown
so I could know.
Each of our moves cautious and calculated
a legacy of survival on our sides.
The rabbit knew him before
she heard his soft steps.
The greens knew her before
she opened her eyes, and
the sun knew them before their seeds cracked, opened.