The Wolf.
We sat on a boulder high up on a plateau
the soul of the slain wolf and I, we saw
mountains and deep dales as far as our eyes
could reach and since it was winter there
were spirals of smoke coming from hunting
lodges; we didn’t see any towns as they
were in the deepest gorges, but could hear
the distant clamour of industrious humanity.
I stroked the wolves head slightly, it had
not succumbed, like its cousin to, mans whims
and craved no approval. A heavy mist came
from the sea filled the valleys with a white
blanket of silence. Slowly the mist dissipated
and I sensed the wolf’s soul had gone, but
could hear the bay of wolves far away where
my eyes could not reach.
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