Saturday, February 25, 2017

February Thoughts



We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes.

I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes – something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.'

2 comments:

oklhdan said...

Your poetry is lovely!

Florence said...

Thank you! And thanks for stopping by!