Wolf

The specks of grey along your coat,

The wind blows, causing a ruffle of colours.

Your deep yellow penetrating eyes

Stare out on the bleak wilderness.

The sun glistens off the snow,

As if a thousand diamonds were laid to rest.

The trees creek and moan,

Heavy-laden with their new found robe.

What artistry lay in your coat,

What magic dwells behind your eyes?

What do you see as you gaze upon the land,

What do you feel as you move among the brush?

Who can tell what mysteries you know,

Held in the chamber of your arctic heart?

Who can say what you feel,

As your paw penetrates the virgin snow?

As you march across the frozen plain

Can you tell me what you know?

As I examine your prints behind you,

Can you tell me what you felt?

Who alone, but he who moulded your coat,

Knows what you feel?

Who alone, but he who shaped your eye,

Knows the mysteries that lay behind them?

Who alone, but he, penetrates the depths of your icy heart?

Who alone, but he, knows you in your totality?