The Sorrow of a Wolf

A pack of timber wolves journey south,
To escape the bitter winter.
No one has eaten,
Prey is scarce,
The travelers are becoming weaker

Soon, the snow is less, the breeze is cool
Still about is their quarry.
The wolves have found another home,
To rest and howl in victory.

In man’s territory, they stumble,
Still, they do not know,
That when they hunt for an evening meal,
Their life would surely go.

The alpha howls the time for hunt,
The others fall in behind.
Together they travel both high and low,
Until they reach a find.

In an open area across the moor,
A flock of sheep graze.
Strange yet stupid they may seem,
Since they have not run away.

The alpha stands about her pack,
Unsure of when to start.
Her mate watches her eagerly,
But soon the pack had part.

The she-wolf stays amongst the trees,
Fear prickling her fur.
These strange creatures carried a scent,
Of an enemy, she was sure.

A young sheep straggled from the flock,
Watches the coming in interest .
What odd creatures, she had thought,
'Till a wolf struck her chest.

Terror seized her as she struggled,
Against locked jaws to her gullet.
The wondering sheep nearby panic,
But too late; their match is met.

One by one the close are killed,
The others run to hide.
The wolves have got each a sheep
They let out a jubilant cry.

Dim-witted these creatures had been,
To look, then carry on eating,
When the wolves had come into view,
Instead of rounding and fleeting.

The dog then settled, bit into his kill,
Not forgetting his mate.
Then raised his head and let out a whine,
Their union does he await.

The alpha sits obscured by brush,
And utters an unsure whine.
The mate gulps down extra meat,
To bring back for her to dine.

Then the feasting wolves looked up,
Horror seizes them in place.
Two men come—guns in hand,
And then began the chase.

Wolves leap up and duck for cover,
But it was already too late.
Guns poised, the men shoot,
And dead falls her mate.

The she-wolf runs and leaves her pack,
She doesn’t stop for a time.
Her pack is gone, she is alone,
Man has won the climb.

She leaves man’s territory,
Then climbs a ledge,
And looks upon the country.

She lets out a lonesome cry,
But no one answers her plea.
Although she left and was not shot,
She did not feel free.

These are the prices animals pay,
When they stumble upon man’s midst.
Why slaughter the ones that cannot speak,
When all they did was fight to exist?