Wild wolves howl in the night.
They stir in me, a primal fright
But wolves are not just evil and mean,
Blood thirsty calls would have them seem.
They call to communicate their heritage and right,
To claim their territory in the night.
Their lonely calls help them get along.
To guide the hunt and warn the throng.
That they will separate the strong from the weak.
With a manner not mean, mild or meek.
But bloody, as is their trade.
Into the fight they fear not to wade.
Then, lovingly share with the pack the kill.
Strength in numbers, individually no will.
For lonely is the lone wolf.
And howl as he might.
He will die in the night, alone.
Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull