No Second Chances

Underneath the ebony branches
Fate doesn’t grant second chances.
Padding deserted winter road
shrouded by banks of diamond snow -
progress dictated by midnight winds
and the faraway beat of robin’s wings.
He is senses and instinct
nose detecting fresh death stink.
Stoops to lick unlucky remains
squishy pile of zombie brains
Omnivorous witch brush
tongue laps sticky roadkill mush
The rumble in his stomach fades
raises head to the moon and brays.
Headlights from a speeding car
mesmerise Reynard in a hail of stars.
Underneath the ebony branches
cruel Fate grants no second chances