The wind is a wolf.
It runs through the forest
with the slightest sound.
You do not know it is there.
It is never seen.

In the darkness
 it goes to the edge of the water
 to drink.
It causes ripples in the water.

It runs to the top of a hill ---
dying.
It stops.
With a breath full of soul
it howls.
Calling out,
it is lonely.

Kyle Leach

Read more of Kyle's Poetry

Back Home

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page