The moon beckons to follow
over the marsh where water
has become ice, solid for fleeting
feet running through the rushes
holding once rampant waters still
for creatures to find their grasp
while they continue the hunt
of rabbits and fox that prowl
the night in the glow of the moon.
I weary of this chase, feet are raw
bleeding from the shards of ice
leaving prints in the snow to be
scented from my pursuer who will
soon be upon the limping formations.
There are outlines of trees ahead,
old maples and oak branches that
have become fuel for the pioneers fire
where they keep their hearth warm
and cook their food to provide heat
for their cabins in this bitter winter
and after this long and tiring chase
I will give my own fur only to feel
once more the heat and a hearty
welcome to join the clan once more.