The Wolf

Two Wolves
The Wolf

A wolf lolloping through the snow,

All alone with no place to go.

Devoid of its pack it runs south,

To quench its cursed thirsty mouth.

Where the streams are fresh and flowing,

The maverick wolf is going—

To the forgotten woods of home,

To hunt for fresh carcass and bone.


Here in the endless blinding white,

A lone wolf is losing its fight,

Dragging its belly and hoping,

That the hillside will start sloping.

He rests awhile under a bush,

And wakes at dawn to loving push.

The great she wolf pours liquid light,

And nuzzles wolf awake to fight.


She leads him to the falling pool,

And ends the life of weather cruel.

For both found love that blighted day,

And ‘wolf alone’ put fears away.

Companionship he never shared,

And fear took hold his heart was scared,

but she the wolf that mended bones,

She loved the wolf of winter’s groans.


And stride by stride they walked in hope,

In any winter they would cope.


© Iain Sutherland, 2013.
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