Forest Nomad

The wolf had roamed the forest trail, A nomad, nothing more, At times, still starving, looking frail, Wondering what life's for... At other times, he'd run for miles, A tour de force, so fast, His mind so cunning, full of guiles, Till hunger came at last... That's why he walks and doesn't run, Conserving energy And biding time beneath the sun, For all the world to see... But come the night, his luck will change As trees will hide him well And when the world turns dark and strange, The tales that he will tell... For now, he looks a fragile thing, A victim like the rest, But come the night, behold a king, With hunting skills to test... He'll turn the tables round about, It's then his turn to stalk, Then only fools would search him out And in his footsteps walk... Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2013. The poem is based on the magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford called 'Forest Nomad'. More Stephen Gayford poems here: denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com