Letter to Wolf

     By Kathryn Knight Sonntag

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Cryptic, long-bodied 

                lupine of moon argent:

silvicolous, 

deserticolous, 

montane, diurnal,

The Morrigán, red-furred phantom, where,

sovereign shape-shifter, is your 

 

lair? Wulvern of my aspirations 

and incubi, mac tíre, I follow 

your intonation of the First Song, 

composed on Creation from True Light. Be muse

 

to our hearts with bright tales, unfold the way

 

of life-death-life. Sepulchral, sirenic, euphonious, lithe,

insatiable lover of now, sing on. 

 

Songs so ancient we cannot name them, so new 

they are sprouts, so constant they are rivers

so sure they are rocks, delicate

leaves falling. Distant 

 

suns, your eyes trace a glint

of beauty awakening beauty,

a paradise more

than Eden,

come.