As Wolf pads over black shadows
And under the shade of bare tree limbs,
He raises his head and lets the scents wash over him.
Cold, bitter-smelling air stings his nose,
And if there's any prey in the area, he can't smell it.
He hears a noise - the sound of wind through leaves,
But not quite. It's too fast to be the wind.
The dirt under his paws is cold -
Freezing, in fact.
The time of warm winds is over
Wolf knows that winter is coming.
Content that there is no current danger,
The young wolf continues his journey.
That noise grows louder - the whooshing,
Over and over - but Wolf knows that it's just the wind.
And then, when it crescendos to a point where he can't stand it,
When the burning, bitter air assaults his nostrils in earnest,
He breaks free of the prey-scant forest.
The young wolf sees what's before him -
The great metal beasts that fly so fast,
And the unnatural gray dirt that they run upon-
And Wolf knows that the choice he faces is a difficult one:
To go forward, into the unknown, fighting past the dangers before him?
Or go back, to a place he knows, but a place he knows can no longer support him?
The choice is a difficult one, but Wolf chooses.
Then Wolf walks.
YOU ARE READING
Forest Dwindling (Poetry Collection)
PoetryWith their habitat now threatened, forest animals try to find ways to survive.