A Copper Fox

‘Twas Autumn and the trees ablaze,
With colours rust and brown,
The fox asleep in bracken snug,
Lived just outside the town.
No baying hounds, no braying men
On horseback sought him there
Old Reynard free from such as these
Slept soundly without care.
A passing artist spied him and
The russet blaze espied
“A copper fox! A copper fox!” excitedly she cried.
The fox was startled and soon fled
His image , though, was captured,
In copper tones, around her wrist,
Its wearer quite enraptured.