Snow

An icy world wakes up to a white blanket,
Lit by the faint glow of an orange sun.
Far in the distance comes a shriek of a squawk,
Signalling the rise of the outside world.

Fresh pawprints and trickles of red. The occasional feather strewn
across the path.
The snow never lies. Fox.
In a frozen pond somewhere, distraught ducks quack in mourning
While tiny cubs back home eagerly await their next fresh meal.

By lunchtime the evidence is gone.
Snowmen are nothing more than puddles.
Children cry louder than the ducks and cubs put together,
Plaintively whining for tonight's dinner menu.

The air grows chilly as dusk starts to fall
And the humans drink their cocoa.
The fox and the snow are only just preparing,
To make their mark on the world.