Image for the poem Wolf


He drifted ghost like through the dark forest
Until he came to the hunters camp.
He smelt her on the wind, smelt her blood
Saw that she was no more
He turned and climbed  to the high spot
And in the moonlight the timber wolf
Howled his pain, his sorrow, his loss.
Written by ThePiper
Author's Note
Environmental grief you might call it. Whatever, the pain of loss not only of a loved one but of the wilderness.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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