The Fox Cub

You will play no more
Among the ears of corn,
With brothers and sisters
Learning about your world.

Will they wait?
Or, resigned to Nature’s call,
That some survive and some
Must perish, carry on.

Will they mourn,
The passing from this world
Of one so young, taken by some fate
They will never understand?

Frozen in my headlights
Spot lit until under my wheels,
Blinded to the end
Last breath on cold tarmac

And I

A life on my conscience
Murder easily executed,
Drive on into the night
Afraid to look back in the mirror.

The Fox Cub

Nigel Bangert

Harlow, United Kingdom

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