Black Wolf
Old trees soak up the sun
Greedily they drink the rain.
I lean against the trunk,
A black wolf curled below.
Apple blooms smell of spring:
Beautiful, full of promise.
The wolf stirs now, softly.
I smile and watch him dream.
Night falls, shadows gather,
Dark pools among the trees.
Starlight fills the meadow
Grey flows between the black.
Silence shrouds the sleeping
Woods, then gradually
The sounds of night begin,
The voice of beast and breeze.
One shadow, silent, moves.
Impossible to see
Save with the slitted eyes
of a cat. I see him.