Wolf MoonA Poem by Leslie Philiberta wolfa snapper,a black bag of lungs low to the earth,crust of dried leaves. Eyes full of running,a sharp head turning to head a night full of moon,howl. Clear cold full of tired,old stars,call the weak to trail in the snow,fearing the warmth at heel,the silent steps; a ballet of the grey mother.So the night is long,three notes constant to the dark, the lost to be pushed to the white ice; the dead water,the black spruce waiting, the carbon hearts still,the dawn lost frozen.
© 2013 Leslie PhilibertReviews
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Added on April 22, 2013Last Updated on April 22, 2013 AuthorLeslie PhilibertBavaria, GermanyAboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..Writing
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