The babble of pine covered mountain carved streams,
the fall of the snow in a forest of dreams.
I long for the hawk as he swoops towards his prey,
and awakening blossoms on a perfect spring day.
I crave that of nature that makes me amazed.
And the stillness of valleys where life is less crazed.
Sleek otter slides softly down in to the river,
with dawn in his eyes,
and stares at sun's rise.
As mist lifts to clear skies
the day passes on,
and all of night's denizens creep into song.
I yearn for the howls of the wolves I have loved,
as I struggle to image my paws in the mud.
As I drop this skin and trade it for fur,
I long to meet up with my pack as they stir.
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