I am eternally young as my old wolf,
my newborn flesh and a gray arctic coat.
gray from birth, and gray on dying day.
my parents:
the still icy harbor,
or the spray from a surprising wave.

Give me that double fur, decorated with seasons harsh,
for my father is a lonely tundra,
and my mother a blood red marsh--
hungry, searching, under arctic stars,
ambushed in muck--during the spring thaw.

Now in winter, I do not search, but pull her sled instead,
Her harness cuts deep,
As at birth, I am gray and red.

I will die as my old wolf did,
a newborn pup,
with arctic grey on my chin,
a cold and ambushing world I have only known,
led and loved by blood red snow,
I lay down to die, and die alone,
Rejoining the arctic sky, with my arctic coat.































For my Parents.