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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