Soft pads lightly stalked
Across the forest floor
As black fur blended
Into shadows of the undergrowth,
Hiding the small predator from its target.

What little light remained
From a clouded moon
Shone on sharp,
Golden eyes on a dormouse locked –
Perfect for a snack.

Pointed snout
Holding sharp fangs
Polished by a
Slick tongue,
Hungry for prey –

The fox pounced
And claimed its prize.