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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1575235
The hunter and the hunted

" Night Wolves "

I've been to where the night wolves run,
I've seen them hunt with skill
and when the grisly feast is done
there's howling at the kill.

Through the drifting snow and pines
they travel with the pack.
With snarls and nips and covert whines
they scent another track.

The full moon shines upon the snow,
the air is sharp and cold.
A winter world of white aglow
where tragedies unfold.

In these shining eyes there gleams
the look of one possessed,
for hunger rules their waking dreams
and instincts are the test.

When the screaming north winds blow
the hunted tire fast.
Death is looming and will show
its gnarled face at last.

So as this winter's day does close,
the hungry eat their fill.
Again the hunted find their throes
and night wolves stalk their kill.

My wolves sig
© Copyright 2009 T.L.Finch (t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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