The wolves prowl.
Never far.
Two of them
A black male
A white female

They are not mine.
But I feed them
daily.
Even when the Arctic winds howl
and the sky is black
with blizzard.

As long as I am fearless,
only
as long as I am
fearless,
they accept
my gifts.

They come to me.
They leave.
This makes me smile.
Except for them,
I am alone.

The black
I can fight and perhaps
win.

The white
is always watching.

They will decide.

They will sense
what I cannot.

That it’s time.

_{by Edward Covannon, Creative Commons Attribution - ^z - 2023-12-15}