The Fox

In the dead of night,
the wind it howled.
Frolicking freely,
the foxes prowled.

Tinkering loiterers,
with no regard.
For man made rule,
or road so hard.

A pest to some,
we have no care.
For we wonder,
from here to there.

In your bins,
we forage for,
scraps of meat,
we prefer it raw.

With bellies filled,
off once more.
Into the night,
je t'adore.


Seeking vixens
to keep warm.
With dreams of pups,
that may be born.

Clever fox,
digging in.
A hole for foxy,
for mate and kin.

Their time will come
to play at night.
Blessed by nature,
the futures bright.