Foxes abound but don’ t make a sound

Intelligence,
foxes
Make much of their lives
They spend months at wild universe
How each survives
Man is their enemy
Slow witted he
Hunts them but obviously
He fails to see

For the Fox is invisible
A magician of sorts
Knowing the countryside
And profound thoughts
Caring for family
And for the earth
Inside the den which is when
The great worth

comes to fruition
Looking to be
Survivors in man land
Where hunters ride free
Foxes love lamb
The farmers they know
How much the fox loves them
The cubs too will grow
Stronger on lamb
Than the other wild meats
Rabbits and voles
And weasels all treats
The hunts are about
Banned over here
But they go out they do
Spreading the fear
Which is why the fox
Has a penchant to be
Hiding on hill sides
As a constancy

He goes out at night
Eyes everywhere
A great sense of smell
Remaining aware
A good sense of hearing
Quietly he strides
Through the brush and the leaves
With his camouflage hides

The squirrel man cometh
Though evil they be
Too many souls are dug out
Tragically
Leaving cubs in the den
While the parents go
Looking for food
It’s, when we know

The cubs they may cry
Hungry they be
It’s when mother comes back
And the gamekeeper He
Hiding
a heartless oaf
Trying to fool
The wild soul whose love
For her cubs
Breaks the rule

Instinct is rampant
The wild predatory
Has a magical presence
The vicinity
A snapping of twigs
A rustle of leaves
Amused by it all
Which is why man achieves