NIGHT OF THE FOX Out of the shroud she moves with pulsating cat like grace. Scenting the air, scanning the mounds of muddy dew, Darting forwards trying to erase her trace. Moonlight maundered her beacon, wispy breeze life or death, Scurrying for sustenance of life past farmhouses, under gates of wire mesh. Stopping for breath surroundings danger free, She feeds for a while, Under the feathery canopy of a gnarled old tree. Cry of death stops her with frozen fear. Seconds minutes, life could be snuffed out, With pain and ebbing bloody tears. Death fades away into the gloom. Sustenance of life back on track, Fear gone no more thought of crimson doom. Poacher ends it quick; no remorse leaves his covered head. Swaying sack of crimson death, He leaves quickly on muted tread.Birth sign: Scorpio
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