Dark Lord Of The Night

• Meg Bray, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2010

Hidden in the darkness of the moon-dappled night,
Moving as one with the shadows his dark friends,
Pads the proud fox in all his glorious might,
On nothing but himself does he depend.

So stealthy are his movements; silent his careful tread,
That were it not for the flash of his golden pelt,
Lit up in the night by a moon-lighted thread,
His location would be lost in that forest belt.

So quiet, so furtive the imposing fox preys,
Threading lithely through here, ducking low there,
Stepping daintily, almost dancing, through the forested maze,
Stalking and hunting always with silent infinite care.

A mighty hunter, the king of stealth,
He shows his defiance to all when he stands,
Upon a rocky outcrop, behind him the moon's wealth,
And he shows to all that he's the dark lord of the night's lands.