A Foxy Escape
Fleet of foot,
So fair of face.
Used for sport.
For fun they race.
Across the meadows,
and under the trees.
Fear a scent
on their breeze.
Quivering wild,
lightning so quick.
Cunningly avoid
death’s jaws
as fate you trick.
Bugles echo.
Hounds wild for bait.
Red blur
ahead of macabre sound.
Not today it repeats.
They’ll have to wait.