it’s been a long season
since the wolves came to my door,
howling,
offering their spoils,
fresh words
they fought so hard for.
they may be gnarled
and gnashed
by late autumn teeth,
and covered in the blood of
broken beauty
and interrupted peace,
their meaning understood
only by the soul of the receiver,
a gift,
soulful, clever, pure, and true.
the words of wolves make me
a believer,
a howler,
a healer,
forever blue.
