Hunting Territory

The Wolf

does not anger,

or mourn,

at least,

not for very long.

It sees

neither passion,

nor revenge,

it only hungers.

 

Alone,

or in the pack,

it ranges far and wide,

testing the wind

and taking stock

of what prey

is within

its hunting territory.

 

Male,

female,

both hunt.

The pack survives,

only if every wolf hunts.

The lone,

will hunt always,

eager to stalk,

and chase,

and kill.

 

The prey is life.

Meat and blood and bone,

fuel the next exodus

to another hunting ground

as the seasons change.

Everything changes,

but the Wolf,

is still a Wolf

when the night comes.

 

They howl.

Him for her.

Her for him.

Alone and finding home.

The pack welcome.

Tomorrow comes,

another time to stalk.

All the world is a hunt;

for the Wolf,

will always be

a Wolf.

 

HG – 2018

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