The Fox Hunt...For Danny Reynolds Poem by Scarlett Treat

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