the black wolf

i did not have a thing to say,

i do not know me,

life always such a mystery.

Yesterday some one send me photos of last fall, the colors so extremely colorful. I loose that totally, living in a world all white. Today a storm came through, instantly my dark mood vanished.

i am chirping like a bird. listening to his lovely voice. i blushed . i blushed , my gosh i blushed, how wonderful. that i am still me.

Last week i wrote this poem when at night the owls where talking.

An owl hoots

some 100yards away

all darkness

why do i love the lone black wolf

a wolf that might stand still

and turn it's head towards me, staring,

listening to me

I call back to the owl

i have been hearing owls for several days

so close today

i am inadequate in this forest

where the lone wolf hunts

and the owl answers

if

i saw the wolf

would i have the courage

to approach

he would trot off, that i know

I am not equipped

my bones creak

my body aches

with an incurable disease

yet i'm healthy

strong

I don't try to approach the owls

their wingbeat silent

there's no telling if they heed me or not

Do i listen to their call?

i want the wolf, i wail

grovelling in deep snow

i scream out for the black wolf

i scramble for his hidden den

my frozen hands

only turn up snow and ice

There's blood

warm bright red, frozen white