“I am the wolf!” I say As I trot behind the caribou. I’m salivating and my heart pounds As I ignore the pain of miles jogged. “I will never stop running” I say As I swallow my thirst. I run on and don’t slow; Determined to sink my teeth into healthy flesh.
“I’ll never be the coyote” I say. He desires only weak meat. He laughs at the idea of a good meal Stealing any morsel he can find. “I’m not the coyote” I say “I want to earn a true dinner.” I absolve my petty desires With my passion for the caribou.
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I run through a field of rabbits, Past by my potential meals to stop at shore. I can just make out the lone caribou. She is alone on her island. She is beautiful and strong. She looks me in the eyes - inviting and unafraid.
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“Alas, I am NOT the wolf…” I say “I am cunning and swift, Yet unable to swim to her shore.” My hunger rumbles as I stare. “I am the fox” I say I hope for the caribou, But I try and try in vain To fill her void with rabbits and the slain.