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4/26/2020
Wild poetry contest
Sponsor Anthony Slausin

The collared dog awaits his master’s love
and laps and licks the blessed hand above,

while the wolf, ephemeral shaddow of the unbiddable wild
drinks from the crystal streams descending the mountain.
(He drinks from the palm of creation.)

Obedient pets sit, with poise, awaiting treats,
or scratch the door, the scent of cedars sweet,
but too far,

while the wolf runs through the bright brush at the bull elk, those bellowing lungs a trumpet
announcing to the deeps the shadows of the forest live.

The Good await the chance to thrust their nose
into the rushing wind as Civics go,

while the wolf encircles the dust to lay and lick
all the delectable scents of the wind in his fur.

Faithfully the pet lays, alone on the steel table
wondering where his master is, the scent of the vet
surrounds him like wolves
that eat the walls of the room
until he is free.

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