I took a little flak from the comments I made about “relationships” last Tuesday.  Oh, well!  I’m not going to sweat the details.

This is what love looks like.

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High in the timber
Where the frost glazes crooked stones
And the trees are skinny and spare
Where the wind blows the surface snow
Like small blizzards in the morning air
Here hunts the wolf
With freeze in his face and blowing fur
A silent tracking into the further trees
When the moon is up and the night is cold
Looking for the cheerless sun of almost tomorrow
And it is stiff silent
Where the wolf pads through the uneven trees
Almost blue against the snow and moon
Tasting the wind with head down concern
And gliding across the flint of his eyes

Later he goes to her
A strong young female animal
Fresh from the kill with blood in his fur
And lays it at her feet muzzles and snaps
And she gorges and growls next to the foot of the trees

High in the shallow timber
The she wolf waits for her mate
And he comes to her
Red eyed and gray faced cold
And they gorge on the kill
She grooms the blood from his face

And he has his fill of her
And she has her fill of him
And they rest curled together against the cold

And they forage together
Where the blue cold waits
And the wind shifts a trace of snow
The hard eyed wolf and his mate
Where only the wolf can hunt
High in the trees strong and alone