My Only Weapon Is My Pen

Wolf and Crow

I stepped upon
a crow feather
last night

Mere accident
I suppose

Reached down
to pick it up
then hesitated

uncertain
if I should touch

something
so
sacred

I thought of her
with her sly sunset smile

These thoughts
went many places

none of which
I shall describe here

I can only summarize:
She moves me

I have things
Not those kind of things
Other things
Things I dare not mention

Intrigue bites
and questions gnaw

to the onyx depths
of old bone

within the carcass
of this charcoaled relic

this grizzled hold-out
from a time forgotten

this bastion of the eternal;
Wolf

Majestically
he pounces into the abyss
stirring up snow

and
when he comes up
a soft look in his eyes

there

ever so gently
‘tween his teeth

he holds that feather
in his mouth

knowing it belongs

to his precious
friend of the wild;
Crow

© 2009

Image a derivative made by me of two works in the public domain