Wolf

I do howl at the moon
and can trek miles to find
a meal for the family
It comes as no bind
For I relentlessly
am hopeful that we
The Iowa pack
will live purposefully
I am that wolf
In the forest I live
My eyesight is good
And ofcourse I can give
distance, a turn of speed
worthy of most
and apparently vanish
just like a ghost
I can peer from the hollows
and know I’m not seen
No more than a silhouette
lost in the green

My yellow eyes see
and engender respect
We’re the Iowa pack
facing all of the flack
Being shot from the air
being ambushed by those
in their camouflage gear
well, now I suppose
they will always be here
And we’ll have to watch
and we’ll have to hope
With their devious methods
we will learn to cope.

This poem was inspired by Sophie Grisard
who posted a video from Wolf Poet on my wall
last night