The Lone Wolf

Silence:
Only broken by
The slow dripping
Of raindrops from
The forest roof.
Defied only by
The far-off call
Of some songbird
Serenading.
Shattered as
A dry branch
Snaps underfoot:
Echoing, echoing…

Swift padding fills the void,
Monotonous beats replace
The forest’s tentative whispers,
Kindling crackling beneath
The steady footfalls heralds
His passing.

Padding:
Unceasing,
Unresting,
Testament
To his lonely
Passage.
Broken
Only by
The snapping
Of twigs,
Continues
To rebel
Against the silence.

He pauses atop a hilly rise
Sniffing, wondrous scents fill
The night air, luscious
Berries, bitter herbs,
And others, so subtle
Yet, so strong, so suggestive,
Mingle together with
Resinous pine and sonorous oak.

He tastes
Each one
Briefly,
Basking
In every
Individual
Scent,
As they
Resonate
Within him,
Freedom calls.

He springs from his altar
Desire awakening within,
Moonlit shadows surround him,
The midnight symphony begins.

Silence is no more amidst
The organised chaos and delight
Of the moonlight ballroom,
Fireflies dance erratically to
The confusion of crickets and
Lonesome arias of deepthroated owls.

He listens,
To,
Each one,
Their minute
Insignificant
Vibrations
Touch
His soul
With
Lonesome
Beauty.

He sets off again, running
Swiftly through the dense growth,
Ivy rustles at his passing,
Branches crackle underfoot.
Unaccompanied he travels through
The mystic night-filled forest.

Alone,
Unaccompanied,
The solitary
Hunter
Treads
His path,
Strong,
Wild
And
Free.

Moonlight shines through green leaf,
Dappled lights parade and bounce
Along the moss strewn forest floor,
And by the shine of the silver moon-
He calls forth.

He howls,
They
Echo,
Through
Forest,
Across
Plain,
And field.
His lonesome song,
Alone,
Fills the night.

He stops,
And
Then,
Silence,
Silence,
Silence.

Keith O’Sullivan

12-12-04