Improv (Week 3)

The Thought-Fox—Ted Hughes

I imagine this midnight moment's forest,

‘Coon hounds yell over, and over.  

            Follow them dogs, boy!

Flashlights bob in and out of valleys,

Darting from tree top, to tree top.

Uncle Phillip leads the way,

Ripped blue jeans, boots, t-shirt with

Dip spit splattered over the collar.

Tripping over an oak trees root, I stop

To catch the breath that had

Gotten out ahead of me during the chase.

I can no longer hear the baying,

Bobbing ghost lights have disappeared

In the illusion of fog and fear.

I imagine this midnight moment’s forest,

Pulling me into its damp, death soaked moss,

never letting go.