Sunday, 23 February 2014
I saw this beautiful illustration online today, and felt its winter wolf inspire me, impel me, to compose the following lines in its honour.
White wolf of winter, of starlight and icicle,
Padding softly through the silver trees in blue frozen haze,
Its chilling breath swirling, curling, a smoke of sudden snowflakes,
Its frosted fur sparking and shimmering in pale, pellucid scintillation,
Its azure eyes imparting a glacial gleam of cool frigid fire.
It turns and gazes at me as I stand before its mesmerising presence,
Resistance is futile, is fickle, submission is solace, is all.
I never suspected that death would be so subtle, so silent.
But then the bright sun filters down from the treetops,
Down through the branches to where we both stand.
And the winter wolf vanishes -
A spectre swept past-ward,
A dream dreamed and done with,
A shadow extinguished,
A vision discounted.
The snow keeps on falling as I retrace homeward,
The winter wolf's footprints my lone steadfast guide,
I still hear its howling, its heartbeat, all round me,
I still feel its cool chilling breath on my face,
And know that one day it will come, it will find me.
And I shall be there, shall be waiting anew.