The Wolf and the Cuckoo
Does the wolf still prowl
within our sheepish dreams,
or is it now a cuckoo nesting comfortably
deep and sly behind our eyes?
Give me the wolf any day,
for that secretive bird has grown fat,
it nestles, it fluffs out a sick complacency,
it has become too large for its small nest.
The wolf hides
it gnaws at its old teeth,
wanes thin with fear.
Soon the cuckoo will coo & cook, cluck
like a brooding hen birthing
yet another changeling.
Soon the wolf will leave you helpless
and that which was never you
will become the triumphant image
of your broken soul.
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