A Wolf's Eyes

A Wolf's Eyes

A wolf, mouth bloodied from the hunt, looks down at the pool of water in front of him.

What does he see?
A savage monster?

A killer fresh from the murder of another living thing?

Does he see guilt in his reflected eyes?

Reflected ears folded against a reflected head in shame?

Reflected breaths made fast and shallow by the weight of death on his mind?

Does he bare his teeth in hatred of his own image?

Does he curse every feature of the wolf in the water, from the teeth in its bloodstained mouth to the dirt clinging to its fur?

Does he wish death on the wolf in the water?

Does he look back with regret on everything that has brought him to this point?

Do whimpers escape his throat as he wishes for forgiveness from the rabbit?

Does he look towards the reflected, rippling clouds for reconciliation?

Does he tense up at the thought of possible judgement from the reflected trees?

Does he consider holding his head beneath the shimmering surface in front of him until his existence ends?

Of course not.

Should he?

A wolf, mouth wet from his drink, lifts his head from the water and continues on his way.