Three short lines capture a single moment: a fox in the city, unaware that someone is watching it. The title, "Vulpes vulpes," is the red fox's Latin name, and it gives the scene a quiet, observational feel, as if the speaker were a naturalist noting a sighting. The poem then drops that formality and gives us something more immediate: the fox's "full ears."
The ears are the one detail the speaker lingers on. They suggest an animal alert and listening, tuned to the sounds around it, even while it fails to notice the person standing there. The line break after "not seeing me" makes the reader pause on that idea before the fox appears, so the speaker's own invisibility comes first.
The mood is hushed and attentive. The speaker seems to feel a mix of delight and care, holding still so as not to break the spell. There's also a gentle sense of wonder that a wild creature goes about its life inside the city, close enough to see but unaware of us.