Someone must have left the latch
Unhinged and open overnight
For the late-night hunter,
nocturne villain
Hiding in the faded light.
The crickets cry, the
bullfrog sings,
The night owl questions,
"Who is there?"
But not a sound the stealth
night raider
Makes as he roams far and
near.
Could I have faltered so
unwary?
So assured? So confident?
Must I now pay for caution's
flaws?
The answer is self-evident.
The fox will raid but to
survive,
And he will journey far and
wide
To find the point of least
resistance
In the shadows where he
hides.
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