I shed no tears for hunter men but how I cry for the wolves they kill

Such wildborn courage she displayed
she loved it
as the light did fade
she stood there the moon
in her sights
the wind in her throat
on these crazy nights
her coat it rippled
her pack she saw
the cubs in tow
their spirit raw
over the ridge, that shady ridge
down to the pool she’d go
to look at her reflection
and
drink that watery snow
give the moon a sideways
glance
all wondering, and why
this was her place
it was where
she met her maker sadly
in a violent glare
a ball of lead
fired from a gun
tore into her
and even spun
her around the pain
emptied a howl
a cold dark soul
a ruptured bowel
silence followed
she was gone
she lay there warm
and a bright light shone
the hunter came
with his flash lights, he
had killed a goddess
actually
a soul that had led
her pack, and she
would be sorely missed
for eternity

the hunter
he was a nasty type
the sort of man
you would want to swipe
bending down he ran his hand
over her fur
did he understand
what a soul he’d killed
did he heck
then he slipped into the pond
and broke his neck
karma I call it
a fitting end
to a nasty bit of work
no friend
of mine
no friend of the wild dark nights
no friend of the wolves
and no soul that bites
the coward in the dark
shot the goddess down
and fed the pack
who all went to town

all they found
was his battered light
they’d eaten his clothes too
that dark night