The Chase

A rustling noise on a chilly autumn morning,
A rabbit foraging for food,
The crunching of the dead leaves under his feet.

Startled by my steps,
He starts to sprint,
Dashing for cover,
Darting left and right,
His warm breath leaving a cloudy trail,
Illuminated by the bright moonlight,
I watch him run away.

Another shape catches my eye,
Movement in the bushes,
Breaking cover, the fox gives chase,
Teeth bared,
He snaps at the rabbit,
Breakfast for the hungry fox.

He stops,
Turns around,
Confusion on his face,
No rabbit in his jaws,
He stares at me,
Puzzlement in place of the usual sly look,
Resigned and dejected he slinks away.

When he's out of sight,
The rabbit re-appears,
As if out of nowhere,
Seemingly mocking,
Will the fox ever learn?
You can't kill something that's already dead.