Thought-Fox

I imagine this fox, quickly Cursor of the earth— When the quiet steals in, A deep search through dim echoes and shadow, Cat’s eyes glinting, I breathe, And the ink downs, fill the places Along my hand, burgeoning with the dark, Emerging shapes— Here, in the boundaries, The night swells with indigo, As it breaks the depths of being. Inking—bringing sight to the weight, Out of the fox’s quick stealth, Pillows of fur in the ink’s caress, Emerging fresh and fierce— An outcry from within, The thoughts of a leaf, sound echoes, silence walking.

• Ted Hughes