Strolling
The silvery moonlight coming up over the mountain top.
The lone wolf echoes heard in the valley, stop.
There in the moonbean he begins his strolling.
As memomeries of his lady wolf start scrolling.
Slowly enter into the ravine with a stumble.
For his life has become kind of humble.
There fining a large tamarack to lay gentley under.
Resting his gray muzzle on his leg so slender.
Letting his belly feel the coolness of the needles.
Suddenly his eyes catching movement of some pine beetles.
His eyes slowly close thinking of his younger days.
The courtin' of his lady, taking time for the plays.
He was needing her to nestle him in the wildreness.
But no howl, nothing to be heard, only stillness.
Then a heavy rain began to fall upon his head in this land.
He eyed the countyside one last time and began to stand.
Letting out with a cry of sorrow he turned heading to his den.
The Alpha Male, began digging to bury his sorrow and mend.
BY DW
The Wolf
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