Vixen love

Off again, on meandering paths
Leaving behind the sullen dark
Over hill and under bridge
The cunning fox treads on broken sticks

A sound, so faint as to hardly be heard
Alerts the red dog to the bird
Hunched and ready, creeping slowly forward
The unsuspecting bird he creeps toward

The pause, and ready the sudden pounce
Grateful for flesh, if only an ounce
And prancing back to it's warm dry lair
The proud red dog goes without a care.