Eyes of the Wolf

How brightly showed the sun,

On the rolling meadow green,

How loud were Nature's sounds,

And pure blue the sky did seem.

The pasture's golden sheen,

Did stare my eyes so keen, 

A lovely sight, to my delight,

I'd wandered to a stream.

The waters churned down below,

wet tendrils lapping at my toes,

By the bank I lie and close my eyes,

And listened to hawking crows.

A hissing snake was very near,

The hooves of many bounding deer,

A magic sound from all around,

Brought joy to my gleaning ear,

And then a new sound gave rise,

Shooting off into the skies,

Clear and bold, a story told,

Catching me by surprise.

I saw her stand upon a hill,

With a voice to set the forest still,

A shiver climbed my rigid spine,

And with awe my heart did fill.

A coat of fur like grey-cloud gales,

A mouth of fangs as sharp as nails,

A wondrous sight, a major fright,

The wolf shaded my face to pale.

She spotted me on the river side,

Her gaze became intensified,

Her eyes were bright, like firelight,

Then she was gone with loping strides.

The eyes my mind remembers most,

Of that day upon the river's coast,

Like fireflies, that never die,

Justly knowing, never to boast.

And so it is that I recall,

The events of that long-gone day,

In my memory they shall dwell,

And there they will always stay.

END

                    --The Drifter--