Nature of Women and Wolves

She's not feral,

only overly cautious,

with a reason to be so.

She wears a vibrant spiked, soft fur,

and it drapes from head to toe with confidence.

Howling as the moon hovers among the billions of stars,

her voice reaches the heavens with her destiny in her paws.

No one can tame such a restless beast,

with the scent of wood on her coat,

where her muddy paw prints imprint the earth,

a path taken and path hidden under every bush and root,

she'll follow the unseen road with more than just her sharp eyes,

but with every sense in her being with Nature as her guide.

Her figure will morph from animal and beast to reason,

her supple breasts feeding the life as life given,

but not once assumed as defeat,

when her sharp claws protect her den.

However, a wolf she is not but only a part of her identity,

she is but the silhouette of life as life given,

encaged in the heart of any,

and freed in the nature of all women.