MS (8.4.1929 / Marton, Lancashire)

Wolf Love

Here in the mountains there is much to see
So much different than down by the sea
Sometimes many leaves are blown by the wind's motion
Causing a stir, creating sounds of the ocean

Here I can find peace upon this giant hill
I come here alone on my own free will
My favorite place here with many wildflowers
I come to wonder of forces, magic and powers

The few little animals here know me
They live here and see me often, I let them be
Always I have brought them treats and care for all
Again my senses detect a painful call

The sound brought me to a nearby place
I saw the reason and tears wet my face
The cry was of pain, loneliness and fear
The young wolf mourned, his love lay near

I moved closer trying to decide
The young wolf startled moved off aside
He growled protectively, eyes watching around
He accepted me and whined as I dug the ground

After gathering rocks for along the grave's edge
I rested, seeing the sad wolf over by the ledge
I was afraid he wished for death to end his pain
After the death of his love, what was there to gain

I placed the rocks with flowers and a stake
A Northern wind blew and I began to shake
My concern turned to the dog and where he would go
He had left so quietly, I did not know

The wind blew stronger, giving me a chill
I walked away wondering why man has to kill
On my way back to the place where I live
I prayed aloud that God would forgive

Nearing my house the sun was sinking down
Clouds blew together and just hung around
Gazing out my window, I stared out so far
Through the darkened clouds I saw a star

The moon was full and shining through
It broke the clouds when I thought of you
It shone so bright, I had to really smile
I stayed that way for the longest while

A black massive cloud covered the moon's light
Blocking all the twinkling stars from my sight
I thought of the dog and where he had went
Thinking of our time together and how it was spent

He seemed to trust me while I buried his mate
I stayed up that night until it was very late
The morning came early, I opened my eyes
My mind played the memory of the lone wolf's cries

The sun rose fast lighting up the whole sky
My mind would not stop playing that lonely cry
The wind picked up and brushed my face
Releasing a desire to return to that place

The trail this time seemed different to me
Somehow it had changed from how it used to be
I do not know what I expected to see from the grave
Now, I hold it a memory I will always save

There were many more rocks, placed around it with care
Flowers, pine cones and gifts were there
With great wonder I found a place to go
To wait and watch where nobody would know

It was not long before I found out
What this mystery was all about
The young wolf returned, tired without rest
Placing the rock and doing his best

I watched him for hours cover the mound
He gathered every rock to be found
I realized he was finished as he began to lay
He had worked so hard throughout the day

For the longest time so still he laid
I moved closer, feeling very afraid
Reaching his body, I knew he was dead
I buried him also with words to be said

by Deborah Cromer

Other poems of CROMER (135)

Comments (7)

Dear Michael, Thank you for your kind dedication. Please look at yours from me: 'The Rich and the Pour' It took a little 'extra' reasearch for this one. Al=coholiquement votre, R.
Very well textured and meaningful poem. Wonderful!
Just passed through Napa and did my usual tasting....ah, heaven! And I loved your poem, too. Good work. Raynette
Uriah, am I seeing double? Or is it both of you?
Any poem in praise of wine has my attention and affection. See Pablo Neruda's 'Ode To Wine.' And then there's this: Too much work, and no vacation, Deserves at least a small libation. So hail! my friends, and raise your glasses; Work's the curse of the drinking classes. Oscar Wilde
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