The Wood

The Wood

Consumed by an appetite, wily and cunning,

the lone wolf carves out his territory.

Larger and less accommodating to the pack,

he makes his way, sovereign, unencumbered.

Not yet grizzled, but long since a pup,

his intense confidence emanates from success

in stealth and strength against unwary prey.

Each day is different,

and each day is the same.

From whence his hungry belly will be filled,

no day reveals,

but every day is the search to sate a constant hunger.

The mystery of each day's fare is

the challenge that fills his waking hours.

Single-minded, almost always successful,

no distraction, ever shrewd, one puzzle,

only seeking today's answer.

Until . . .

Shrouded morning,

mist and cool,

dark in the wood.

Hunger rising,

lurking ready,

senses honed,

what will the day lay victim to such stealth?

Quiet coming.

Something distant,

moving close through yonder bramble.

Silent shuffle,

slow approaching,

faint emerging through the wood.

But as the plodding prey advances

something stronger overwhelms.

Off his game with trepidation,

unfamiliar thoughts emerge.

Pacing nervous,

never losing sight of his approaching mark.

Something stronger than his belly

drives his focus as she comes.

Oddly different,

swaying sweetly as she moves into his reach.

Feeling awkward,

moving out to where she sees him in the lane.

There's no running,

she is silent as she surveys his great frame.

Only faintly is she blushing

as he circles where she stands.

As if practiced,

she walks with him

as he slips into the wood.

Intuition overtakes him

as he helps her settle in.

In the cover of the forest

the wolf is moved by something new.

As she, trembling, but not in terror,

surrenders to his every move.

Wolf again, in salivating, hungry

passion learns his prey.

Little one from scarlet hooded

riding habit comes unfurled.

Gently blushing, flinching at his

probing nose and lapping tongue.

Spreads by instinct, withholding nothing,

from the beast entranced by her.

In the cool and quiet thicket

as he learns to take his fill

she with breathless passion churning,

is complicit in his sin.