The Cry
He stands alone at the top of the
hill
He had been out hunting
He wasn't gone long
The smell of man was everywhere
He sat and waited day by day
Why would man come all this way
Their territory plainly marked
The smell of chickens, cows and
sheep
And so they lived a quiet life
So he could find no reason
Maybe they'd be coming back
That was many moons ago
He now knows men are murderers
And sings his mournful cry,
His mate and cubs are missing
He's not certain why.
Was gone for only a day,
And hurried back with empty jaws
So scarce now was their prey.
Eager to get home,
But the den was cold and empty
And he sensed something was wrong.
With footprints in the dirt,
And blood shed from his family
He knew they had been hurt.
With hopes they would return,
There wasn't much he could do
Except quietly sit and yearn.
To hunt and shoot them down,
To interrupt their quiet lives
When no harm had been done?
And not once did they stray,
For they would rather starve to
death
Than to get in man's way.
Were so tempting at times,
But instincts warned not to hunt
them
Or they would lose their lives.
Existing on small game,
Careful it was only wildlife
And nothing man had tamed.
For the blood shed on that day,
So peacefully they lived here
So far out of man's way.
His cubbies and his mate,
Wolves are mated once for life
So he would sit and wait.
And they have not come back,
But he will not stop hoping
For the reunion of his pack.
But still does not know why,
And every night he climbs his hill
And sings his mournful cry.
