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Ted Hughes - The Thought-Fox
Work rating: Medium

	I imagine this midnight moment`s forest:
	Something else is alive
	Beside the clock`s loneliness
	And this blank page where my fingers move.

	Through the window I see no star:
	Something more near
	Though deeper within darkness
	Is entering the loneliness:

	Cold, delicately as the dark snow
	A fox`s nose touches twig, leaf;
	Two eyes serve a movement, that now
	And again now, and now, and now

	Sets neat prints into the snow
	Between trees, and warily a lame
	Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
	Of a body that is bold to come

	Across clearings, an eye,
	A widening deepening greenness,
	Brilliantly, concentratedly,
	Coming about its own business

	Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
	It enters the dark hole of the head.
	The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
	The page is printed.
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