Another wolf poem ...
Robin Hamilton.
FOR WOLVES TALL AT THE SHOULDER
There's a fierce sun floating high today, somewhere
Strangers are pacing out my grave. Sister, do not
Leave the park, do not - the wolves are out,
The old wolves of Bethlehem are howling at the moon,
Been howling since the boy died on the tree, their love
Gone, tomorrow cancelled out by that wasteful death.
As the wolves howl on, the rivers run, the rivers
Free within their banks. Do not pity the rivers
Who have their own agenda, and may bite.
Wolves and rivers and a clean moon appearing
One day - unusual. Happiness is sometimes permitted,
But we may wear our misery with style.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Alison Croggon" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 17, 2002 9:14 AM
Subject: Re: A Responsibility to Awe (Meet Dr. Heavens!)
> Dear Erminia
>
> You should meet my 12yo daughter, who is obsessed by wolves.
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