Howlus Nocturne

make it stop chirping so I can hear the sound of the river and the wind
they never stop
my paws smell like the fragrant echo of the hunt
underneath the smell of hair
I can taste the raccoon's flesh
still enmeshed within
the din of noises coalesces
I hear some rustling along the ledges
beneath the hedges
where the river gashes deep between the forest
and the glen
as the sun falls
and I call
out to
the mighty wolf
and his pack
across the night sky
I can see him then
in my wolven mind's eye
his troupe of forty or so
and then some
I/ We. We must become like them
Strong to the end
unlimited in number
we must defend
this immortal pack
while our young wolves slumber
our warriors have hunt
and puncture the necks
of some unfortunate Elk
The mightiest among us
goes in for the prize
as he stands with his whiskers
still red from this animal's death
and as his eyes turn
in an act of humility
he howls... looking upwardly at the moon.
Staring there
directly at his god
the pack leader
who only hunts
at night...
Staring up at the moon
before he devours this Elk
He must give tribute.......howling
to the one who eternally blesses the hunts
The God of the Wolves.