A favourite poem.

Ted Hughes 'The Thought Fox', a poem that has always awed me by its intriguing, mysterious atmosphere, where, every second, I wait with bated breath, to see his 'page printed'.
The moment of artistic composition cannot not be captured more powerfully, I think.
I read this poem again after a long time and was drawn again into its spell.
With the poet, I look into the dark forest and see the two eyes and watch, fascinated, as inspiration strikes, and out of the night,  a poem is born!
Here is the poem,

The Thought-Fox

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.

Ted Hughes

 Hope reading this unclogs the mind and sets it free on the path of creativity. :)