New Poem : The Hermit & The Wolves

The Hermit & The Wolves

The pale hermit has stopped to rest at the peak

of a cold, solitary mountain.

 

He watches his children swiftly crack

the back of a lonely elk.

 

The wolves kill in silence, so as not to let the thin

bears, drifting the outskirts of the forest,

know that there is meat, that there is hope.

 

A violent flow of blood vanishes

into the deep snow. The earth herself

is weakening fast and welcomes nourishment.

 

The wolves clean the bones under a great funeral

of stars, and the sad gaze of their father.

 

The pale hermit moves on, his curved back

heavier than before, not knowing for

how much longer he will roam the skies.

 

 

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