My heart enters the body of a wolf,

Every night when the sun goes down.

My heart beats in his stong body

As he moves in a blanket of darkness.

Strength flows down into his legs

And into the hard, cold, ground.

The earth is pungent with the smell

Of pine needles and dead crumbled leaves.

The sounds of the early night mask

The rough pads of his feet.

His ears hear the twittering of birds

And the call of a great horned owl.

The dove’s  mournful song fades in the dark.

The wolf stands silent and alert.

His nostrils quiver under the rising moon.

His strong neck arches gracefully.

He sends forth such a wild sound,

A howl that seems to come up

From the center of the earth

And flow through his sturdy legs

Until  it enters the wolf’s soul.

The sound pours  from his mouth

To call others of his own kind.

He seeks not to isolate, or be alone.

Rather he yearns to run with the pack,

To become part of a unified whole.

Even wild wolves in difficult times

Seek to establish a pack and

Need the comfort of companionship.

Yu/stan/kema