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.
THE THOUGHT-FOX by Ted Hughes

fox

All is dark and quiet. The waning moon shines balefully above the trees as I glide through the undergrowth and bracken of the woodland of my home. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees high above, a cool breeze on a warm spring evening. Tiny pipistrelle bats swoop and dive between the branches, seeking insects in the fading glow of the last rays of sunlight and a stag bellows deep in the forest; badgers and deer roam freely and unfettered searching for food and sustenance. The forest at this time of year is full of spring’s promise of coming autumnal fecundity. The cold days of the winters dark time are over, and the stark beauty of the leafless trees and shrubs is gradually replaced by a carpet of fresh grass, gently maturing plants and flowers and the budding leaves of beech, oak, ash and birch. Beauty surrounds me. Yet within this beauty there is always danger, and caution is my watchword.

I am Vixxen, creature of the dusk and of the night, who hides away from prying eyes, yet is ever watching, ever wakeful, ever alert. I can sometimes become anxious, agitated, irritated, afraid. Sometimes I will go to ground, hide in the undergrowth, allowing the carpet of natural cover to hide me from prying, dangerous eyes. Sometimes I can be sure-footed and daring, using all my skills to reach the goal I have set myself, using my intelligence, my senses, my instincts, my learning and understanding to get to where I need to be. And sometimes I can be gently cajoling, caring for those I love, protecting the weak, unsure and vulnerable, gently pointing them in the direction they need to find for themselves, helping them find their own strength, their own courage and their own understandings. I can be complex, sometimes misunderstood, sometimes a focus of hatred or even of dreadful sport, the victim of uncaring humanity. I can be naïve and trusting, for I will always try to see good in everyone. And I will always give of my best to others; always resourceful, always clever, always strong. I may run when it is right to run; but test me, back me into a corner and I will snarl and bite. Do not test me too much, for though you may be bigger or stronger I will use all I possess to protect myself and those I love.

My russet coat and white tipped tail blends into the mist gently rising around the trunks of the trees and the air takes on a surreal shifting quality as colours fade into a deeper and deeper blue. The moisture of sweet spring rain which fell a few hours ago is transformed into this swirling, mysterious entity, swaying and dancing through the trees, exploring every part of the wood, flowing like liquid silk. Silently it follows stream and brook, water babbling gently, bringing refreshment and life itself to the land, as blood to the womb of this sacred earth.

Silence returns, but for the almost imperceptible padding of my paws upon the undergrowth.

A movement away to my left catches my watchful eyes, and I stop, stock still, turning to smell the air. The scent of a badger fills my nostrils and I carefully slink away, deeper and deeper into the forest, into the night, seeking opportunity, seeking that moment where all existences meet, spirit to spirit, in honour and sacred trust.

This is my land, this my home, this is my love…….

Stop and listen. Wait and watch. The spirits of this beautiful sacred place will reveal themselves to you if you have patience enough to stay, still, silent, and listening……

For here is my Druidry, here is my spirituality, here are my gods. And here is where for me the Awen flows most freely, offering me inspiration, connection and understanding.