The Fox (Vixen) Poem by GORDON BUTCHERS

With the onset of darkness
She appears from her lair,
On the edge of the woods
Her prey beware.

Out from the shadows
Along the cliff top and down the lane,
Under the moonlight
Or out in the rain.

Her eerie scream
Can be heard from afar,
Her eyes lit up by the lights
Of a passing car.

Into the barn
Chickens fly,
Another meal for the fox
So cunning and sly.

A trail of feathers
Left in her wake,
Then gone like the wind
Before day break.