WHISPERS IN THE MOONLIT DANCE

In the silent woods where shadows intertwine,
A trapper weaves secrets, a clandestine design.
The weasel, swift, its fur a twilight hue,
Dances towards fate in the moonlit view.

A snare whispers softly, drawing near,
The weasel, unaware, dances without fear.
Moonlight spills secrets on the forest floor,
As destiny unfolds, a tale to explore.

The snare tightens, a heartbeat's span,
In the dance of trapping, a crafted plan.
Yet in the weasel's eyes, a spirit untamed,
A wild reminder, in shadows proclaimed.

The trapper reflects on the captive prize,
In the moonlit spectacle, under starry skies.
For in the act of trapping, a tale profound,
Of balance, respect, and the wild unbound.

Great first post. Thanks for sharing

Thanks, Turtledale! I'm glad you like it. I'll have another one coming tomorrow for WEASEL WEDNESDAY!