The Wolf
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The Wolf
A much maligned animal of lore
With a gnarled snarl, frothing saliva,
And fangs that rip and claws that gore,
And eyes that focus to choke the throat.
With ears that hear the slightest stirring
And noses to smell the faintest scent,
They, ghostlike, blend into their surroundings
On soft paws, scarcely heard is their presence.
They join wits and instinct in stalking packs,
And with unrelenting stealth, they track.
Ambient howls transmit jolts down one’s back,
Of their voracious appetites to match.
The design was complete, and the wolf breathed,
An apex predator beyond belief,
Where only the alphas breed progeny
And learn to master their environment.
Copyright © Dennis Spilchuk | Year Posted 2020
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