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.
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Love this! I held my breath the entire time. I’m still holding it. Are they gone yet?
Thank you for joining in 🙂 Yes, I think they’ve gone and the fox cubs are playing at the edge of the woods 🙂
Oh–sigh of relief! Now they can live to go through that portal to safety. 😉
Exactly 🙂 I’m still looking for it. It has to be there somewhere…
Very nice poem. Meter, rhyme and meaning all worked together well.
Thank you, Frank 🙂
A forest cliffhanger! Delightful read.
Thank you, Beverly 🙂
Oh those dark creatures… most chilling, I will have nightmares now.
The kind of people who creep around killing animals for fun give me the chills too.
I like the way you’ve told a story in this lovely verse. I agree about the hunters.
I don’t swallow the excuse that they are the guardians of the countryside, or that it’s an essential urge, even deeper than a tradition. We’re not cave people any more. Well, some of us…
Yes, unfortunately.
Definitely chilling. I can sense their closeness and the ‘withheld breath’. Wonderful write.
Thank you! It’s hard to imagine what it must be like to live with fear constantly.
Beautiful voice in this poem!
Thank you! I’m so glad you like it.
A little suspense here and a version of the old-fashioned tale of huntsmen and foxes. Loved it…did you also do the art?
Thank you, Kathy 🙂 As for the painting, it’s by one of my favourite artists, Franz Marc, a German Expressionist painter who was killed at the battle of Verdun.
Beautiful writing, which makes the underlying dread all the more scary and sad.
Thank you, Rosemary. I’m not sure I could function at that level of anxiety, yet wild animals have to all the time.
Beautiful and pure. Love it!
Thank you! Foxes are splendid creatures 🙂
I actually held my breath while reading this, Jane!
‘And in this world of silent, withheld breath,
The stars are still, for nothing stirs in death’.
Glad it worked 🙂 Apart from war refugees, I don’t suppose we have much understanding of what it means to be constantly on the alert for death-dealers.