Thomsen Wolf

Muskoxen, shadowed at a distance. Patience stretches out beyond sight.

Teeth flash, dispense a violent peace. White muzzle drips blood red.

Darkwoods 2010

The next day, her riverside dance was pensive.

I watched. Joyous. Troubled. Reverent.

We followed her, elusive. This place, tent rings thousands of years old.

A knowledge, lost all these years. Unless you are wolf.

Did you lead us here?

A pack around us. The howling snares my breath somewhere between lungs and throat. I feel it through the soles of my feet. They are nowhere to be seen, the invisible blinds me.

What do you want of me, wolf?

Tell me.

Shall I speak what is lost inside me?

 

 

 

Author: Dave Weir     Photo: Dave Quinn

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