Lucy Dreams of Wolves
You run with wolves
in the pine frost forest,
your buckskin gown
drenched with dawning dew,
dancing again
with the alpha male
clinging to the cloak
of his collar, your paw
submerged in the silk
of his shoulder,
your shanks heeling
to his rhythms
as your heart nearly bursts,
striding,
finding your place
in his midnight muster.
Your voice choruses
with those of your sisters,
whiskers atwitch
in the lunatic choir.
You well up. You ripple,
a synergy of fur and gristle,
glistening
under the moon’s single eye.
Author: Bob McAfee
Photo: Thomas Bonometti on Unsplash
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