The Lone Wolf

By H. C. Sluys

Beneath the pines you pass as silent-swift
As winter mountain snow melts into spring
You’re clear-eyed, wild, shadow-gray
Through each and every white and frozen drift
Those dark eyes never known to miss a thing
You hear a hoofbeat from a mile away.

Your sorrow cries beneath the moon so pale
“Oh why can I not catch you in my jaws?”
As oft you search the thousand stars
That voice is swept away by windy gale
And leaves you standing on four silken paws
No closer to your sunbright moon than Mars
While gazing at the night to pass the hours
You fail to see returning birds and flowers.

April 2, 2003