Forest King
Sometimes seen between the trees
a flash of reddish brown
he fleetly dances through the brush
he wears the trickster’s crown
at first he’s seen and then he’s not
gone without a sound
the scent is caught, the hunt is off
every horse and man and hound
plowing through the forest
smashing leaf and stick to ground
but the quarry is a master
he knows his kingdom well
he leads a merry party
through forest hill and dell
they grow weary bearing forests cuts
their dogs soon loose the smell
so another band pretending
mastery of the land
is outwitted and eluded
by a creature ‘much less grand’