A howl was the long cry from the
distant lair
For the parting forms were once
a pair
Their creativeness was a natural
attraction
And their visions of night a
distraction
The early dawn’s air rested upon
the valley floor
The parting silhouettes weaving
into lore
The white male wolf a ghost like
form
The female’s color gray - as an
impending storm
The black mountains rose high
above the ground
Their magnificent lines like forms
of sinewy muscle bound
Beneath them lay a crease of the
raging river’s flow
Where the water’s tone roared
low
The laws of attraction were at
play
She would not go and he could
not stay
The primary directive for survival
is to condone
And the primitive sense of the
wild is to be alone
Time and place will return them
together once again
And so, the story of the wolf’s legend
began
At her pleading lament to return
to the ancient bower
As life nears end - at the
eleventh hour
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