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.