I, the Wolf
Kerry L. Wright
I stood alone by the silver moon,
As the wind caught my ebon fur.
And soon my swift feet caught the dune,
Close to the bracken bur.
My piercing eyes searched the dark,
And I stopped watchful, silent.
I heard a howl and a bark,
And soon the zephyr did relent.
I am wary with greater care,
Than most others of my stock.
For unlike others, I am rare.
And some would keep me under lock.
I would settle, that is true,
But my loneliness does engulf,
For I am hunted more than you.
I. The vagabond. Wolf.
© 1997 Kerry L. Wright, all rights reserved
appears here by permission