One slim chance to catch the wolf
The chill wind at my back
Nicely scratching the itch
A warm sun tendril illuminating
The ground beneath my feet
My home-made arrow flew
Missing the dark brown fur by inches
He lives to swagger through another day
I allow myself one shot, and that was it
Time up, I will set my cloak
same time tomorrow.
Walking home to the hoot of an owl
I knew tomorrows arrow
would miss its target
There’s no fun in taking
down such a beauty
After all, I am not one of
Robin Hoods merry men
My age is ten, the wolf
and I have grown together
I never stand downwind,
so he knows where I am
We are connected…
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