Wolves Roam the Dark

Wolves Roam the Dark
Christopher Bogart

Wolves roam the dark,
Through stark grasses,
Their paws claw soil,
Wet muzzles black
Nuzzle deep into dark loam,
Sniff for scents of human fear.

And when that fear is found,
They bound from the darkness
In which they were spawned,
Rear back their massive heads of black and gray,
And howl,
Fowling the stillness
Of the frozen air.

They circle,
Manic,
Paws pace slow,
Heads low,
Saliva flows,
Dripping over sharp white teeth
Down to the forest floor
Below.

Sparks
From their malevolent gaze
Pierce the cold and
Creeping haze,
Light the night
With thoughts of flight
And fear left so alone.

They roam through chasms of fight and flight,
Searing the mind with fears,
Remains of those unending years,
And the sharp acrid scent
That awakens
Abandonment.