the skulk was mostly *****
hens were haunted by either gender
the farmer's wife also feared them
though small and they ran from most two-legged beasts
the farmer shot the foxes for sport--guarding chickens not his concern with a thousand acres in corn
the farmer's son had trapped a red Reynard
it perished in captivity, starving itself
the night of the caged fox's demise, the rooster crowed tirelessly
for good reason, since the leash gobbled a dozen hens under a waning gibbous moon
the creatures prosecuted a moral symmetry it seemed
while the farmer was febrile with the grippe, the son fast asleep, and the wife dared not make a peep
witnessing a crimson carnage she likened to war
in its aftermath, a naked sun rose on waves of white feathers and scarlet trails of blood
perhaps 'tis not good to trap a wild thing, the farmer's wife mused
then she made her way to the coops, fetching enough eggs for breakfast
all the while the skulk watched from the thick brush
watched and waited, without will as we know it
but with a red reckoning ready, should they again be victims
of man's folly and sin
**A group of foxes is called a leash or a skulk