The rabbit made it to the brier patch
and leaned back on the thorns to catch his breath.
The fox stood glaring at him from a thatch
of nearby underbrush, his eyes like Death.
"You're meant to be so clever, sly, and mean,"
the rodent taunted. "I'd think you would know
that kits are taught from birth to slide between
these bushes, where no predators can go."
"I am aware, of course," the fox replied,
"of your foul species' penchant for the brier.
I'd hoped to catch you ere you ducked inside,
but you eluded me, just at the wire.
"But this loss I can easily forgive.
For I am sly--and I know where you live."