Wolves
Wolves initiate nightly prowls,
claiming the rights of kith and kin.
Hailing Luna with baying howls
while closing ranks, their wails begin.
As the rising-moon beams with joy,
they pay Her homage without pause.
And each harmonic they employ
rises from massive upturned jaws.
In their charcoal coats dappled gray,
they blend in as if they weren't there.
And concealed from the eyes of prey,
they hunt at night with little care.
They praise the moon to no avail,
failing to convince Her to stay.
Yet, slinking through the forest trail,
familiar odors guide their way.
Nightly jaunts in both glen and glade,
these stealthy creatures shadow black.
And taking stock of all surveyed,
families form a hunting pack.
(Quatrain)
3/11/2015
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment