Prowl

I would cross mountain ranges,

drop down onto the tundra floor,

and forage as the season changes,

in constant search of my pack of four.

I would slink between trees,

then peer through willows and alders.

During the day I would feel indestructible, free,

but in the cold night wonder if it mattered.


Each day I would flee from bears,

steadily follow the ravens,

prey on moose, caribou, deer,

longing to return to my den, my haven.

Fighting, surviving, living,

urged by a need I don’t understand,

I would keep on thriving,

and my lonely howl would cross the land.