COMING HOME AFTER THE HUNT . . .

It was still, surprisingly, rather dark in early morning and cool
the young fox, finally after a night's hunting, had his belly full
he surveyed field from shelter of hedge in nearness to lair
never throwing caution to wind, predators may be waiting there

Non curious sheep with lambs asleep amongst lush green grass
his nose twitched, rich flood of smells, not hungry, easy to pass
maybe tomorrow he may have to risk taking a lamb from mob
with their mothers watchfull, on full alert, would not be easy job

The trees, still a mass of blue shadow, taking shape in early light
another day was about to begin, resting easy he well might
on the skyline a brilliant smear of orange, yellow to be seen
the dome of sky clear, almost transparent, neither blue nor green

Sniffing the wind, getting nervous, on edge of forest he stopped
a tanquil view, on spring loaded feet rabbits among sheep bobbed
finally reached safety of another hedge, this along a muddy lane
barbed wire topped fence, which beyond he had explored, mundane

The mist starting to come up, swallowing little valley church's spire
he was really in dangerous spot, to stop and scenery to admire
a slight anomaly, brain registering it without real identification
fewer smells, no smoke from chimneys, what possible explanation

His nose twitched once again, in familiar surroundings he'd come
guided by smells through labyrinth to safety of earth and home
remembering when they was two, a much happier life in past
sadly shattered, when she went out alone, infernal shotgun blast

There had been food a-plenty then, never hungry, now just a trace
never had to hunt this far from home, each night a different place
at entrance he paused and smelled a smell that eased the pain
it was those faint smells, made him come back again and again