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the wolf.
by Andrew S Adamsshe calls to me from in the woods
the wolf's eyes through the eve.
the pack will pick their soul to litter
the body left to leave;
they move in stealth throughout the night
dancing lies among the sheep;
the wolves in wool disguised as they
go dreaming while she sleeps.
when in the morn the shepherd goes
to check upon his flock
he will find soon that his sheep
have dwindled in their stock
and as he goesto curse the wolf
for this burden to his chest
the wolves will nap in noontime sun,
then go to take the rest.
she wakes (and quick) to creaking trees
too afraid to move;
her skyward head's mouth opened wide,
starts howling at the moon.
with no sheep to count nor bed to make
this night must entertain
forever cursed to stay awake
until she hunts again-
and to linger on eternally
(this nightmare will repeat)
for she, the wolf of sleepless night
will ne'er concede defeat. 07/03/2005 Author's Note: eh, i attempted to be semi-metrical with this one. thoughts?
Posted on 07/03/2005
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 07/03/05 at 06:47 AM You've written about one of my favorite wild creatures. Too sad about the plight of wolves and the sheep they must attack because of shrinking hunting grounds. The theme you follow through each stanza is clear and direct, beautifully told, as it is true.
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Leonard M Hawkes on 02/21/08 at 05:03 AM haunting and powerful. |
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