Sometimes I drink myself,
deep wells of water drowning my insides and pouring back out as rivers
that seek you out and egg you on,
bounding as stag in heat
across the guts of wide, open hillside.
I hear your throat reverberating my name -
top of challenging Tor,
caught and carried upon vast, cutting winds,
salted and frosted in unpredictable air.
I don't call back,
I don't dare.
My heart wiser, taught by time, steadied on song,
mind though, still too small and young,
castle not built well enough for any
who might come with an axe and an intention -
and I dream
A wolf gone vegan
laying quietly in the nevermore
waiting for her time
to come again
the hunting will begin.