Entry, Creative Corner
Blair Snively, Mississippi State University
It is so bitter even the sun
can’t melt the frost on the sod fields or flats
of ice in the depressions below the frozen
hills. I long for a taste of tawny port to burn
the chilled air from my lungs.
Reynard is here.
I know he is, because I can hear him
laughing. Laughing at those silly hounds
who work the line of four buck deer instead
of the scent woven by his musky red tail.
Blaze, taut under my oiled saddle, awaits my cue