Little Wolf
He crossed my path, while walking through the woods.
He was a little grey wolf.
Though merely a cub, he was fearless.
He came to me, hackles raised, teeth bared.
I held my hand to him, for I felt he must have been afraid.
He eyed me closely, letting his guard falter for only a moment.
I stared into his eyes, awaiting his approval or disapproval.
He slowly, so slowly, inched towards me.
I inched closer and closer to him, until he could smell my hand.
His nose was cold and wet.
I smiled as his small pink tongue darted out and he licked my finger.
I moved closer still, scratching behind his ears.
Then, he shouted.
"Come on Dana," he said, "supper is ready."
And my little wolf friend ran away.
I go inside, after watching him leave.
After dinner, he is waiting for me.
Sitting at the edge of the woods.
I go to him.
And every night, after supper, he is there.
Waiting--
Still.
Copyright ©
Dana S | Year Posted 2009
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