I asked the fox about the time.
He gave his answer with this rhyme.
"It's time to eat the plump brown hen.
I've pups to feed inside the den.
My vixen also needs to eat,
and fattened hens make meals complete."
To foxes, time's not hard at all.
They sleep when morning makes her call.
They nap and rest throughout the day
because at night is when they play.
They hunt in darkness using stealth
with hunting skills their only wealth.
The poor brown hen's aware at night
that there's no way she wins the fight.
She will not ever fly the coup
because there's safety in the group.
The darkness triggers bouts of fear.
She knows the time, it's very clear.
Her life could end inside the dark,
but then she hears some voices bark.
The dogs have no idea of time,
but know they must prevent the crime.
They guard the henhouse all night long
so hens can stay alive and strong.
The abstract time belongs to men.
We set our watch so we'll know when
to meet a friend in town at four,
and wait for him inside the door.
Not understood by hen or fox,
we set the time and watch our clocks.
At diff'rent times the night arrives
defined by time that man contrives.
We know the time that dawn begins,
and evening sunsets roll right in.
It's not the same time ev'ry day,
but foxes think so anyway.
They only know that when it's black,
it's time to find a midnight snack.
We know when night and morn will end.
On almanacs we do depend.
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