Patricia Cresswell Poet Free verse

A Mate

a mate

silver and grey hunger
sleek beneath a Spring moon
rolls coyly, playfully
in a shrouded glade

she cries out
long, low, ululations
reverberations caught,
in the silence of pine.

her need is great
she rubs her belly
across cast off cedar

brown aromatic scents
join pheromones
rise into the night
carried far.

random breezes pass
unaware of messages carried.

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Lim'Rik Flats October 16, 2017 at 9:28 PM Triple Wowsa! Have had to privilege to see and hear these magnificent creatures in the wild. Didn't think I'd have the opportunity in my lifetime. Hurray for their recovery. Hope we silly hubeans recover enough sanity to avoid extinction...soon! Another outstanding poem from your house! Patricia Cresswell October 16, 2017 at 10:16 PM Thank you very much! Is it true that Trump is allowing hunters to kill bears and wolves in their dens. I heard it on the news up here a while ago. One of those little filler items that you hear once and never again. You are privileged, at least I think so, to have had the opportunity to hear them.

Old Buck October 10, 2017 at 2:47 PM Patricia: Reads like a love song to me. Your stuff is just a bit past the understanding of this old rhymer but always enjoy my simple understanding of your often greater meanings. Thanks for sharing for all to enjoy on the soup. oldbuck Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 8:37 PM No you understand very well. For me sometimes the beauty is in simplicity not obscurity.

Jannie Breedt October 10, 2017 at 1:50 PM Great piece. Patricia Cresswell October 11, 2017 at 8:37 PM Thanks Jannie.

Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart October 4, 2017 at 7:03 AM You are a master :) xomo love this, you have wolves near you? Patricia Cresswell October 4, 2017 at 1:05 PM Well that is debatable . They ( the authorities) say there is not enough forest for a family of wolves and the howling at night is coyote. Only time will tell.