Lamenting a Call
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What mystery his essence brings
firm the limbs roaming through the hills,
amid the bushy, shadowed trees
his call… the fragrant air, refills.
And sacred eyes guide night’s passage
that clear the forest, to imbue
a rugged grace that comes alive
in moonglow’s tint and furry hues.
Listening to the Gray Wolf's song,
when he yelps out to harmonize
kinship with man, an ancient rite,
while guarding the clan…his blest prize.
Though named by time as spirit- peace,
oh hunters’ greed drains a friend’s blood
as winds lament the saddest howl;
immortal he rests on fields, lulled.
*Protect America's Wolf...https://howlingforjustice.wordpress.com
Shadow Hamilton's Contest
Canis Lupus The Wolf
4/7/15
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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