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
Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
Thanks, John!
You are very graciously welcome, Lana.
Very rich and “digital artifacts.” That was a surprise slipped in!
Thank you, Jo 🙂 I’m frequently adrift between two worlds, ancient and future in some weird time spinning situation. I wonder how anyone will know about us someday? Digital footprints?
Powerful in words and image Lana. <3
Thanks so much my friend. xo
<3
This is a fabulous poem.
Thank you so much !
Stunning Lana…xx
Thank you so much, Sally! 🙂