The Wolf - Part 3

...... Part 3 ...... The old wolf creeps, the old wolf leaps on prey he’s been a’ trackin’ – a deer adorned with branchin’ horns is torn by beasts attackin’. The morning quakes, a shadow shakes, tined antlers left a’ lyin’, and spattered spots and scarlet clots repaint the point o’ dyin’. A magpie flies with frightened eyes (on ebon wings a’ wavin’), spies wolfin’ jaws and sated maws of wolves no longer cravin’. The snowdrift clears, a cool wind veers, a dying breath, moreover – a wraith appears, with shaggy ears, (one droopin’ down, hung over). Dawn’s sunbeams crowd, ignite a cloud, its threaded strands a’ weavin’. The pack awakes and twists and shakes, for soon it’s time for leavin’; it’s bleak, it chills on shallow hills, as she-wolfs come a’ nuzzlin’, but north winds scold, the wolf lies cold, the pack stands back a’ puzzlin’. On crimson snows neath perchin’ crows, the pack abides a’ guardin’; while nights are tight with Harpy kites, the she-wolves wait an’ harden, until a groanin’ blizzard stones the barren forest stowin’ his shaggy ears beneath the weirs, with icy hails ’a blowin’. The storm abates and terminates, the glacial wind’s subsidin’; the past is past or passin’ fast and life goes on abidin’. The herds, today, roam far away, not thinkin’ of the dyin’; the pack’ll stray from day to day, ’a stalkin’ hard and tryin’. As spring sneaks forth upon the north, they’re lean without their leader. A she-wolf (bound with belly round) strains neath a budding cedar. Upon the morn a whelp is born (the future forest drover) in new frontiers, with shaggy ears (one droopin’ down, hung over). ......End......