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The wolves are coming...

Their feet are falling on forgotten paths,
their long-lost voices are filling the sky.
While their yellow eyes cut through the night,
they leave their tracks on the muddy riversides.

The wolves are coming...

The forest whispers of their return,
of their attempt to restore themselves in creation,
to weave themselves back into the web of life
that connects all living things.

The wolves are coming...

Their teeth are seeking out their prey tonight,
the deer and elk, the cattle and sheep,
and they will leave blood and bones scattered in their wake.
Yet meat is what they need, so on meat they must feed.

The wolves are coming...

Some of us will greet them with traps and guns,
and others of us with songs and drums.
Some will say, "Welcome home brother."
Others will say, "Be gone killer!"

The wolves are coming...

Some will come alone, some will come in packs.
Gray wolves, black wolves, brown wolves,
silver wolves, even white wolves, all coming back,
back to the lands they once roamed.

The wolves are coming...

Some of us will like it, some of us will not.
Some of us will stalk them with cameras,
and some will stalk them with guns.
And then we tremble when they stalk us.

The wolves are coming...

They are clothed in mystery and majesty,
surrounded by our love and hate.
They wander through our thoughts and dreams,
they appear in our stories and legends.

The wolves are coming...

Their pups will play in the meadows,
the old ones will doze in the sun,
and the alphas will watch over them all,
for they aren't just a pack, but a family.

The wolves are coming...

Now their howls are echoing in the mountains,
carried by the cold winds down into our logging camps,
our real estate developments, our cities,
and our delusions of conquest.

The wolves are coming...


- Copyright by Sloane J. 2007