From the back of an envelope…

The distant treeline beyond the yard
Stirs yearnings to intense
My thoughts often escape me
And take a blind run for the fence

Sometimes the tower shoots them
Sometimes the dogs attack
They’re always butchered bloody
By the time I get them back

Sometimes they’re dead and dangling
Sometimes they get away
Just to find no place to go
But that’s the price they pay.

You too may see this window view
Or face the gallow’s pole
So if you harbor my fugitive thoughts
Don’t ever tell a soul.