It is night but I am not asleep
My world doesn’t sleep and it pulls at my senses
Calling to my soul and playing with my wild side
Sniffing the air, I can see in the dark and speak its love language
The frozen ground is hard on the pads of my feet
And the crust of snow breaks as I walk gently
The stars fierce on the hills accentuate the crests
Blown taller by drifts like icy crowns
A rabbit forages between pine needles
Looking for seeds and crumbs of green
Between the twisted and exposed tree roots
Under the umbrella branches that pillow the cold air
I trot the route that edges our home
Protecting what is ours from what is theirs
Seeking surprises that dare to be curious
Wandering into our world but not wanting to join it
Something is there—a scent of a fox!
It is not from our pack and unwelcome to stay
It must be hungry in the wintery challenge
Are you here to trade tales wary traveler?
I howl a warning—we’re here, beware!
My pack responds chorally into the night
Yes! We are here. Hear us all. This is us!
This is our world, our home, respect it or begone!
I love this poem! So playful and wonderful that you can inhabit the wolf’s mind.
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