The air was so crisp
And cold, we could hardly
Breathe, for it froze our lungs.
The Horses were dancing
In anticipation, jerking
Their heads up and down,
Up and down in excitement,
Reigns snapped taut, and
Bridles jingling, cold brass
Cracking on cold brass,
As the dogs danced at
Their feet, their tongues
Lolling out, in a frenzy of
Readiness, anxious to
be off, tails waving like flags,
Ears dragging the ground,
Noses poised and ready.
The hunters and huntresses
Were dressed to the nines,
Scarlet coats flaming, boots
Sparkling black, reflecting
The early morning sun, waiting
Only the call of the horn.
As I watched, feeling a bit of
Excitement myself, even though
I was not a part of this hunt, I
Finally realized that the only one
NOT having any fun was
The Poor Beleaguered FOX!
Scarlett Treat
December 12,2008
Nice job, Scarlett. While most of the poem is highly descriptive, it seems as if your main point is in the last stanza, so Lunatic Prayer is wrong. Larry
yes Scarlett it's not much fun to be a fox is it...well written piece thanks for sharing it...Fi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A timely reminder of the sad reality lurking behind so many of our brightly colored national rituals. You should read Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr. Fox - if you haven't already. It's a great read - as is this fine poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥