Fresh Snow

The wolf woke up, chilled by the snow That nestled on his nose, He knew that snow was slow to go, Thus faced the Winter woes... The wolf was quite aware of these, He'd faced them all before And thus he yearned Spring's sweet release When even snow must thaw... Till then, he knew that meals were rare, So he must scavenge now And eat his fill to fight despair, Some future to allow... His eyes and ears and nose took in The clues that helped him live, For these would help the wolf to win, Another year to give... Survival proves the golden rule, The hardest game there is And for each one that plays the fool, Life bids a farewell kiss... The wily wolf must do his best To greet the Spring next year And while fresh snow is such a pest, Its warning's crystal clear... Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2013. The poem is based on the magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford called 'Fresh Snow'. More Stephen Gayford poems here: denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com