RIP

The Forest Knows

The Forest Knows

The wolves who prowl upon forest floor

spare ravenous howls with white-fanged rappor.

A noxious breath upon rumbling growls,

and fumes of death wrapped on grumbling jowls,

the pack does move, and prey does flee,

and the chase that assumes ends ferociously.

In the white pines where paws find

soft, keening whines, the wolves dine,

and the marbled hues glare about

with eyes of golds and blues staring out;

a quivering muzzle barrs red fangs and snout,

and ears glance back in eyeless scout.

The mother wolf trots to her pups' young barks

and digs until forgot the song of the larks,

bringing carcass cold with snow

so that her young will eat and grow.

And Mother Forest cradles

the living and the dead,

until man pollutes, destroys,

erases where his feet do tread;

and Mother Forest recedes in dread,

and leaves man starving and begging bread.

4.16.2013