"To Reach The Pack"
by Ernest Serna aka "The Goatman"
The smell of fear was still there.
The desire for food pushed to the rear.
As powerful muscles drive legs through snow,
tiny ice balls sway, clenching, frozen to hair.
Senses alert to a heightened state.
Eyesight sharpened to a nocturnal view.
Ears that search in radar fashion.
Waiting to hear before its to late.
Heart rate quickens pushing blood lust along.
Panted breath in rhythm to forgiving snow,
darts natures Gray between the trees.
To reach the pack, feed the young.
To belong.
The smell of fear was still there.
My desire for food pushed to the rear.
I touched powerful legs that drove through snow.
Between my fingers ran natures Gray hair.
My eyesight dulled to an emotional view,
watching the mans truck drive away.
The tiny ice balls swayed, clenching, frozen to hair,
out of rhythm to the forgiving silent day.
My ears they searched, waiting to hear,
a sound of freedom that may one day be gone.
To reach the pack, feed the young.
To belong.
fini
This poem is Copyright © to Ernest Serna aka "The Goatman". He has given me special permission to share it with you. Please do not copy in part or in full without the express permission of the Author himself. This is only one of his many beautiful pieces of poetry! Please, take some time and visit Goatman's Cafe to read more of his good works.
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