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Sad plight of the wolf
See a stark silhouette against the pale full moon, hear a great lonely wolf cry its mournful tune. Ask does he cry for his mate, his she gone? Is she dead? Listen to that cry, feel the pain, feel the dread.
And as your spine does tingle and your hair stand on end, feel with your heart the message he does send. For times were not so long ago that wolf and man did share a common land of beauty, a place of love and care. But now we speak with guns, with poison and the snare. Implore, could it be that mournful howl is but a plaintive prayer?
Mary Ann Tripp
Spokane