Beauty Kills

A stark gray fox
Laying dead in the leaves.
Eyes closed, ears down
Bushy tail curled up
Into a bundle
Of something once warm
And brisk as the sun
Cunning as scientists
Bright as the dawn.

Three old hens
Sitting on their eggs
In an old green chicken coop
Right outside the barn
One on the first day
Two on the next
Nothing save a lead ball
Taken on the last

When the beauty of the clever thief
Killed without remorse
Fades into an old oak tree
Fallen in the forest
Soon will rise another
Born in vibrant Spring