Wolf’s Run [old poem, version 1]
I know why the wild wolf runs
He races to feel the sharp wind
Whistling through his rippling fur
In sharp gusts he can feel his breath
Searing his lungs with a rush of exhilaration
And his paws hammering the frozen ground
Muscles hot from continuous movement
Ears cocked and waiting
Straining through the sound of his thumping heart
Beating a tattoo against his ribcage
He can smell the rich tang of the earth
And taste the wind, heavy with sweet scents
Of herbs and berries
His movements are fluid like
Time flowing into eternity
He sees all through a rushing vortex
Of blurred, half seen shapes in his speed
His pink tongue hanging out, sides heaving
Panting and dripping flecks of water
As he feels the icy rush
Hurrying over his tongue
On its way to unknown seas
His throat tightens and his muscles tense
All time stands still as he sounds his voice
In a lonely cry
Through the crisp air of the full moon night
No comments:
Post a Comment