A lone wolf
At the edge of the pack
Feels no lack
Of comrades true
For through
The clouds his friend,the moon, breaks.
He howls and wwakes
The ancient fear
In those dwelling near.

The hunter his gun aims.
The wolf’s brains
There is no need to reload.
Taking up the body of his friend
He glances at the clouds which portend
A storm.
The sky so dark and forlorn.

At home
He sits
And strips
The carcass bare.
The pack neither know nor care
About the hunter’s prey.
They will commune
With the moon
Another day.

8 thoughts on “Wolves

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