The Wolf

The wolf padded by
through the snow,
ahead of his pack.

He stopped,
and turned,
and set his bright,
golden eyes upon me.

His bushy white and gray tail raised
blending with the snow,
his large maw slightly open,
just enough for me to see his panting
as he stared at me,
Those golden eyes paler than the moon.

He sat in the paper white snow
as his pack began to gather near,
and seeing me,
through his gaze,
they sat and watched me too.

They pointed their long snouts
to the sky
and howled,
a piercing sound,
and yet,
a sound more beautiful than the singing of birds.

Not far away,
I heard an answer,
as these magnificent animals stood,
and tore their beautiful eyes off of me,
they loped with the wind
never to be seen by me again.