Wolf-Pack Feast

Snow slides sleepily through the tall aspen trees
The flakes float down like a thousand silent bees
They gobble at the meat, causing it to freeze

Seven wolves gather ‘round the still, moose shape
Grasping and groping at its hair covered nape
The shadows, they cling like a giant black cape

My father, their snarls from deep in their throats
My mother, the warmth from their beautiful coats
My parents together, two gaunt ermine stoats

Feasting and fighting o’er every drop of blood
Taming themselves and refusing the mud
Deepening the ties to strengthen the flood

For their children they survive to teach them the ways
Of life, so they live till the end of their days
As best as they can, so their own they can raise

Grabbing a hold of life by its muzzle
Prettily tearing at heartstrings, a puzzle
Exposing the flesh where, her juices they guzzle

But I linger in tree tops above as I dose
Seeing the warm breath hiss out from its nose
My parents protect me from life’s evil woes