In the haphazard garden,

the confusing jungle

of shapes, textures, aromas and images,

thoughts drift, linger, and drift again.

Like the cat,

ginger and white fur prowling,

slinking in and out,

brushing through the undergrowth,

until the seeds of delight are found,

planted with a sigh,

in the straight channels,

of a freshly turned bed, and the page is printed.

Inspired by the poem ​Thought Fox​ by Ted Hughes (1957)