Frosted Fox

February’s bitter-pill of winter-weary chill;
frigid-frosted-fox, another roadkillrepetition.
Sightless dark-dank-dawn, dog so forlorn
with a tortured tarmac touchtonguetease.
Rotten-rusted Renard arrogance remains
As bottlebrushbristles in winter pain,
February’s cold heart carries another stain.