I am sleeping less,

roused by wingbeats of Boreal Owls

circling ancient Cypress,

gripping knotty branches with a  clutch

of talons .

When I  close my eyes fists of  wind

breech  my seclusion, erupt through

unbound curtains of dark recollections

that  vibrate through my hemispheres.

A soft breeze carries me through the

valley to a  moonlit hillside of sweet lea.

A silver wolf lies down  beside me.

He is the scent of golden meadows and

his eyes are the color of an eastern sky.

 

 

43 thoughts on “Wolves

  1. Hmmm….just going to pretend it’s about me for a moment….ok done!

    Seriously, though, this is wonderful imagery.

    Especially love:
    “When I close my eyes fists of wind
    breech my seclusion, erupt through
    unbound curtains of dark recollections
    that vibrate through my hemispheres.”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I had to re-read this poem. Its a better reading experience away from the daylight. 😉 Very mysterious and romantic too. Love it! Well written, and a very positive image of the wolve. You are not german, you do not fear wolves. 😉 Michael

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Running with nature and escaping with one of the beast of beauty called the wolf. What a vivid picture you laid as I could see and feel the whole story play out. Simply amazing my dear. I don’t understand why I’m missing your post.🌹🌹

    Liked by 1 person

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