Wolf

Fire-lit half silhouette and half myth the wolf circles my past treading the leaves into a bed till he sleeps, black snout on extended paws. Black snout on sulphur body he nudged his way into my consciousness. Prowler, wind-sniffer, throat-catcher, his cries drew a ring around my night; a child's night is a village on the forest edge. My mother said his ears stand up at the fall of dew he can sense a shadow move across a hedge on a dark night; he can sniff out your approaching dreams; there is nothing that won't be lit up by the dark torch of his eyes. The wolves have been slaughtered now. A hedge of smoking gun-barrels rings my daughter's dreams. [From 'The Glass-Blower: Selected Poems']