Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

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…

©anitadawes 2020