Winter Wolf

    What is more elegant than the wind?

    Heavy flesh forms a void in invisible currents
    as howling jaws weave through the leaves,
    a jostling dance, the sinew of autumn that rends
    at last the garment of summer, a herald of winter.

    I stare through this wind, beyond this snow
    silent, aloof, with my patient eyes
    for that ordered movement–mouse, rabbit, doe
    in this lean cold that feeds and cries
    in my velvet ears a desolation . . .   

    My predatory dignity, no passive restraint,
    nor refined repose, but hungry expectation
    skirts a gaze across this white wild blanket
    for food, for love: My defiance of abandon
    is my stillness against the swirling maelstrom.

    The winter wolf, I howl not against the storm:

    feral vanity wrapped in vocal futility.
    No, my paws’ movements echo forlorn,
    slapping against this crunching cold: a solidity
    that whispers beneath this open tempest,

                               softly my freedom.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s