For the dverse prompt to write an ottava rima poem.
When wandering cloud obscures the full moon bright,
The hunters prowl in shadows dark and deep,
While vixen in her lair far from the light,
Curls round her cubs to keep them safe in sleep
Until they pass—the dangers in the night,
With stealthy tread, her secret night paths creep.
And in this world of silent, withheld breath,
The stars are still, for nothing stirs in death.