Lone Wolf

This narrow passage

harbors the path of the lone wolf

wise beyond eons

but empty of fight now

A symphony of days gathers

as leaves scatter to the centers

of the four corners

of a wind plagued land

Lone wolf, long in the tooth

cautious with the remnants

of tribal secrets once chanted by medicine men

scouring the windblown plains

for specter shaman

from a clan that drifted over the horizon

their footprints now digital artifacts

The wolf accepts his lot

on the outskirts of the village

his fate cast

in the colored clay

of narrow hills

What is here, he knows

the chill of late fall

the heavy footsteps of uncertain men

the forgotten ones who sleep

humble and meek

the ones who are dead in life

Past the dust and incarceration

the lone wolf dares not dream

all that remains is here

where time tumbles down

engulfed in a blue norther

gathering at the edge

driving the forces of a howling moon

circling around

the time-worn village