Breath of the Wolf

Breath of the Wolf

The hair upon his chin starts to bristle,
while his head pitches down in somber trance.
Upon the wind; whispering to whistle,
like love that’s always present in romance.
He was soon out of time to do his dance.
Last glimpse of sun savored with naked eye,
and it was seen on face with passing glance.
The darkness fell as light slipped from the sky,
and with a look about him could not lie.
Turned up his head starting low tones and growl,
his whiskers moved and soon he gave out cry.
At night there could be heard a echoed howl.
Continued on until the break of dawn,
turned white; the breath of wolf would bellow on.



(Spenserian)