When the forest wolves howl,
When the wild pack runs near,
In the caves they whisper,
o
will they go, our wolves?
o
will they leave to join their own?
But the cave wolves remember forests filled with snow,
The cold an ache in their bones,
Ice cutting their pads,
Thirst and licking snow to ease it.
In the caves fires never go out.
But sometimes in the long dark
They sit in the snow outside the caves,
Lift their muzzles to the white ghost in the sky,
See a wolf face there,
Howl to each other from cave
to
cave,
Singing that they are wolves, wolves.
And the wolves in the forest sing with them.
Something Speaks
That old she has thrown seven
to
the wolves.
This one, her latest-her last?-is sick .
Little Cub : it was not thought she would grow to Wolf or Bear.
The young one is wrapped in fur, but trembles.
Eyes glitter, heavy, mouth greedy for air,
Smoky this air, the fire low, fuel short.
Outside snow higher than the cave mouth
Pushed back with every fall
Makes walls to the cliff edge.
And still the snow thuds down, the wind moans.
The old she moans too, in words.
"Little Cub, my cub, 0 my little cub,
Do not die, do not leave us,
o
think how you love the forest,
Love to walk in the forest,
Love
to
bathe in the stream... "
